Illusions
by Italian Hobbit
Summary: Fíli and Kíli get in a fight, and Fíli stomps off on his own... but when he doesn't return, it's up to Kíli to find him. But something has happened to Fíli, and he no longer seems to be the brother Kíli knows. No slash.
1. Fight

_**A/N: Hey, everyone! Here's a new fic for you! It's not necessarily a sequel to Race Against Time, but the events in that fic still happened, according to this one - thirty-seven years before. For those of you who didn't read it, the premise was that Fíli accidentally shot Kíli with an arrow one day (in the side, and it punctured his lung), and pretty much everything goes wrong, but Kíli pulls through and yeah. That's all you need to know for this fic, as far as I can determine.**_

_**In this fic, I'm dealing with some obscure Tolkien mythology, so I wanted to announce that right away. It's not mentioned much in popular Tolkien canon, but there are more sentient creatures in the world of Tolkien besides the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth (Elves, Men, Dwarves, Hobbits, & Ents). There are all sorts of fey creatures - as Tolkien says, pixies, faeries, leprawns, et cetera. Other examples of fey creatures in popular canon: the Huorns and Tom Bombadil (who I think is one of these fey creatures, but that's up to your interpretation). So if you didn't know that - now you do!**_

_**Sorry for the long Author's Note! I hope you enjoy this new adventure!  
**_

* * *

It was summer in the Blue Mountains, and nothing could be finer.

Fíli and Kíli lay under a canopy of towering trees, their vibrant green leaves swishing and swaying in the gentle breeze; warm sunlight dappled the forest floor and kissed their faces. The air was thick with the scent of dirt and moss in the midst of the forest, but as the wind filtered through the trees, it carried in the fragrance of wildflowers in the meadow. Fíli was gently snoring, and Kíli was…

Well, Kíli was bored.

"Fíli?" he called softly.

A snore was cut short as Fíli's eyelids opened halfway; he looked up at the verdure and blinked slowly.

"What do you want?" said Fíli, his voice thick with the fatigue of sleep.

"Let's go down by the creek," Kíli said.

"Kíli, we just laid the traps," Fíli said. "Can I just rest for a while? We don't have to be home for hours…"

"Right – so let's go do something!" said Kíli. "I heard there's a pixie down by the creek that grants wishes if you catch it…"

Fíli let out an incredulous guffaw and turned to look at his brother.

"A pixie? Are you serious?"

Kíli nodded enthusiastically, and Fíli guffawed again. Kíli's face fell, and Fíli cleared his throat and attempted to put on a less disbelieving expression.

"What would you wish for, anyway?" he said.

"Oh, I don't know," said Kíli, settling back down in the moss and leaves, his hands behind his head. "I'd wish for… gold."

"Gold?"

"Mithril."

"And what would you do with some mithril?"

"I… I dunno."

"That's right."

"Can we go to the creek now?"

Fíli sighed. "Kíli… you're sixty-two years old…"

"Sixty-two years old and _bored out of my skull._"

Fíli closed his eyes and made no move to get up.

"_Fíli…_"

"You go ahead. I'll catch up later," Fíli said. "Ten minutes."

With a resigned sigh, Kíli pulled himself to his feet and dusted the dirt off of his back. He glanced at Fíli one more time, but his brother had already started to snore again. When had Fíli gotten so_ boring_?

"Ten minutes?" he said.

Fíli made no reply.

Kíli shrugged and shouldered his bow and quiver, leaving his snoring brother to rest. He made his way expertly through the trees, following a long-since memorized path to the clearing between the woods and the small village in which they resided. He turned south and headed downhill; he could hear the creek before he could see it. The previous week had been dark and gloomy, with torrential rain every day; as such, the creek had taken on much water, its banks swollen to overflowing. The creek resembled a rushing river more than the gentle stream it usually was, and Kíli kept a wide berth from its shores. He had never learned to swim.

Kíli knew that Fíli did not put much stock in the existence of pixies, but Kíli was convinced of it. He had spent many a night listening to Bofur and Bombur's wild tales, and Balin had given him a book about pixies, faeries, leprawns, and other such creatures. He had hungrily devoured every word, from dwarfling to the current day – he was sure that they existed, especially after hearing Glóin's tale of a man he had met in the Old Forest, a legendary man who was known as Forn to the Dwarves. Glóin claimed to have met him once – a creature of dwarf-height, or a little taller, with a blue coat and bright yellow boots and a feather in his cap.

"No mortal man was he, mark my words," Glóin had said, though Óin had scoffed. "He was Forn, I tell ye, and no one else. He made ye feel… odd. But a nice fellow."

Fíli had joined Óin in scoffing, but Kíli and Gimli believed every word.

So it was that Kíli searched for the pixie in earnest, though he was not entirely sure how to search for a pixie, or how to catch one even if he managed to find it. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

After a fruitless search, Kíli sat down at the bank of the creek, picking at the grass and watching the water rush by. He had never seen the waters so high; he drew up his knees, watching the creek warily.

"Looking for me?"

Kíli started and looked to his left – the voice had seemed to be coming from right next to his ear, but there was nothing there.

"I heard you were."

Now the voice was coming from his right. It was thin and reedy, but feminine, and full of mirth. He looked to his right, but again saw no one. He stood to his feet and turned around in a circle, but he seemed to be alone, save for the telltale giggling from nearby.

"Who are you?" Kíli called out nervously.

"I am who I wish to be," said the voice on his left. He whirled and caught sight of nothing. "I am many things, but you may call me whatever _you'd_ like, if you wish."

"Are you… a pixie?" Kíli said, whirling again. The voice tinkled mirthfully.

"If you'd like," said the voice, and Kíli turned to face the rushing creek. Two hands were suddenly on his back, and then Kíli was in the water.

Pure, icy panic filled Kíli's body as the creek swiftly pulled him away and downwards. He tried to take a breath, but instead, he got a mouthful of water and gagged, swallowing involuntarily. For a moment he surfaced, and he tried to call out, but instead, he took in even more water; it burned as it went down his windpipe, it burned so _much_ – another mouthful of water. He was drowning, _drowning_, the water burned so – how could water burn? The current dragged him across the bottom and smashed his face into a rock. Kíli saw stars, even with his eyes closed, and more water burned down his throat.

Where was Fíli? Surely Fíli should have made it to the creek by now. Surely Fíli would find him and save him – he always did, he was always there, he wouldn't abandon him now. Not his Fíli. His lungs were burning, and he couldn't see. He felt as if the world above water couldn't exist anymore – he was doomed to this, a watery grave. Darkness filtered into Kíli's mind, and he screamed – _no._ No, not this. Not without Fíli. Never without Fíli. More water rushed into his mouth, and he swallowed it. He was drowning. He was _drowning_...

Suddenly he was flying. No, not flying – he was being dragged. Where was he? In the sky, it felt like. But everything was so _wet_. Somewhere, someone was calling his name, but he could not answer. It was so _dark_...

There was a pressure on his chest. A deep, pounding pressure, and it hurt. He furrowed his brow and wished the pain would go away, and then he retched, coughing up water. It burned as much coming up as it had going down, but he couldn't stop coughing as more water made its way out of his lungs.

The world came rushing back, and Kíli finally gathered that he was no longer in the water, and the person calling his name was Fíli. He reached out blindly for his brother, still coughing and retching; Fíli pulled him up and supported him as he vomited water and bile.

Kíli breathed in then – _finally_ – with deep, grating gasps, feeling the beautiful air fill his lungs and calming his panic. Fíli pulled him away from his sick and cradled him, touching his forehead to Kíli's.

"You idiot," Fíli whispered. "You bloody, fantastic idiot…"

Kíli wanted to respond, but he was still coughing. Now that his fear was fading, he could feel a hot pounding on the right side of his face where he had collided with a rock, and his whole body felt weak and shaky. Fíli held him tightly until his coughs quieted; then, he pulled him up into a sitting position and looked into Kíli's eyes, his own flooded with fear and relief.

"All right?" he said.

"Yeah, I think so," said Kíli in a gravelly voice. His throat still hurt, but at least he could breathe again. He grinned cheekily. "That was no fun."

Fíli chuckled, his shoulders relaxing, and pulled Kíli into a tight hug. Kíli returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

"Don't ever do that again," Fíli said, his fingers curling into the back of Kíli's dripping shirt. "You're not allowed to die without me, you hear?"

"I'll just pull you in with me next time, then," Kíli said, and Fíli cuffed him gently on the back of the head. They both laughed – a jittery, relieved laugh.

Fíli stood then and pulled Kíli up with him, his arms out to catch the younger dwarf if he fell. Kíli held his own, though his knees felt wobbly; he threw his arm around Fíli's neck and leaned into him, and Fíli was ready for it.

"Forget the traps for now," said Fíli. "Let's get you home."

* * *

Much to Kíli's dismay, he found that his body was much weaker than he had originally thought after his near drowning, and he needed his brother's support the entire way home. So it was that the sight of the two brothers struck fear and worry into their mother before she even knew what had happened. Worse yet, they had an audience; around the table sat not only Dís and Thorin, but also Balin, Dwalin, Óin, and Glóin, all deep in conference as they arrived. All eyes turned to Fíli and Kíli as they stepped into the house, and Dís was on her feet quicker than lightning, followed by Thorin.

"Kíli!" Dís cried, taking his face in her hands and studying him with worried blue eyes. "What happened?"

"M'all right, Mum," Kíli said, cursing the raspy sound of his own voice. "Just – I just fell into the creek."

"Looks like ye did more than just fall in, laddie," said Balin.

"Aye, he looks half-drowned," added Dwalin.

"Well, I—" Kíli faltered as Thorin's sharp eyes met his, and then flitted to Fíli. "I'm fine," he said. "Fíli saved me… everything is fine." He leaned into his older brother, and Fíli straightened, pulling Kíli out of his slouch.

"And what happened to your face?" Thorin said.

Kíli ducked his head, and his hair feel over his cheek. He had forgotten about that.

"I hit it on a rock," he mumbled. "It's _fine_. _I'm_ fine."

"Óin?" said Dís, turning to face the old apothecary. He studied Kíli's face intently, and Kíli straightened, doing his best to look healthy and whole, though his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Better follow me, lad," said Óin, nodding towards Kíli's bedroom. Fíli started to help him that way, but Thorin spoke:

"Fíli, you stay out here."

Kíli cast Fíli a helpless glance as Dís pulled him away and out of the kitchen, his heart sinking. He should have known this would happen – he wished he had better hidden his fatigue.

Dís led him into his room and shut the door after Óin had joined them; he sat down on the bed, listening intently for the low rumble of Thorin's voice.

"Kíli, pay attention."

Kíli turned his gaze to Óin, waiting for instruction. The first thing Óin did was spread something thin and cool over his cheek, and Kíli wondered where on earth he had procured the ointment from as the pounding on his cheekbone melted away. He could hear Fíli's voice, and he could tell by his brother's tone that he was trying to defend himself. Kíli cringed.

"How long were you under, lad?" said Óin.

"I don't… I don't know," said Kíli. He avoided his mother's gaze. "It felt like forever."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

Kíli shook his head. Then, after a moment's thought, he added, "Almost, I think. I don't know. It was all sort of a blur…"

"What can you remember?" said Óin.

Kíli cast a sidelong glance at Dís, hesitant to relay his story in her presence, but he knew that there was no getting out of this.

"I was p—" He stopped, glancing up at Óin and remembering how he had scoffed at Glóin's story about Forn and the fey creatures of the Old Forest. "I mean... I fell into the creek. I swallowed a lot of water… and breathed it… it hurt a lot. Then Fíli pulled me out, everything was sort of – dark – and I think he must've been pounding on my chest or something—"

"Good lad," said Óin. "Looks like he knows _some_ first aid, at least."

Kíli nodded. "Then I coughed up water, and I – I threw up – but I'm fine now. Really." He looked up at Óin pleadingly, begging him silently to believe him, but the old, grey dwarf simply watched him skeptically. Fíli and Thorin were still talking in the kitchen.

"I'm _fine_," said Kíli again.

"Sit up straight for me and take a deep breath," was all that Óin said.

Kíli rolled his eyes, but obeyed, ignoring the familiar twinge in his left side. He had never told anyone – and especially not Fíli – but the pain had never fully gone away from the shooting accident so many years ago.

"Any pain?" said Óin.

"None," Kíli lied.

Óin nodded, satisfied.

"He'll be all right, Dís," he said. "Now, Kíli, you should rest for the remainder of the day. No gallivanting about. And take off those wet clothes. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Kíli said, looking down at his lap.

Óin patted his leg affectionately. "We'll leave you to it," he said, and he stood and left the room. Dís moved in front of her son and knelt, resting her arms on his legs. She looked up at him, and Kíli met her gaze.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right?" she said, pushing Kíli's damp hair behind his ear.

"Really, Mum, I'm _fine_," he said again. "Just tired, is all."

Dís studied his eyes for a long moment, and then nodded.

"All right," she said. "I'll leave you to rest."

After she had left the room, Kíli swung his legs onto the bed and plopped his head down on the pillow, facing away from the door. He placed a hand over his left side and breathed in deeply again; it hurt, but he was an expert at keeping a still expression through the pain. It had been thirty-seven years, and as far as he knew, no one had discovered his secret. It didn't impede his activity anymore – he had fought hard to work through that – but after coming out of the creek, he could tell that the water had irritated something. His breathing was _not_ fine.

_I'll be all right with some rest,_ he told himself.

The bedroom door opened suddenly behind Kíli, and he heard Fíli stomp inside; he quickly removed his hand from his side and rolled over.

"Hey," he said.

Fíli said nothing.

"Fíli?" said Kíli nervously.

"Irresponsible," Fíli muttered. He sat down on the other side of the bed and removed his boots, tossing them aside as if they disgusted him. "As if it were _my_ fault…"

Kíli shrank a little, but reached out towards his brother.

"F-Fee?"

"Don't _touch_ me," Fíli snapped, jerking away. Kíli withdrew his hand, unsure what to do. Fíli was rarely angry, and Kíli never knew what to do when he was the cause of it – which seemed to be the case this time. He lay in silence, hesitating, and Fíli removed his outer clothing. As he faced away from Kíli, shrugging off his wet tunic, he spoke.

"What were you even _thinking_, Kíli?"

"I didn't – I – I wasn't—"

"You _know_ you can't swim. You should have known."

Kíli struggled internally as to what to say. He knew – he was certain – that someone – some_thing_ – had pushed him in, but he was not sure that Fíli would believe him.

"I didn't _mean_ to fall in," Kíli said. "I was just—"

"Looking for pixies?" Fíli whirled around; his eyebrows were drawn together, and a fierce snarl twisted in his lips. "_Really_, Kíli? How close to the creek were you looking, that you fell in?"

"You weren't angry about this earlier," Kíli muttered, avoiding his brother's gaze.

"I didn't realize that _I_ would be blamed for _your_ irresponsibility," Fíli retorted.

"It wasn't my fault!" Kíli exclaimed. "I was – I was—"

"You were what?"

"I was pushed, all right?" said Kíli. "Something pushed me in."

Fíli straightened and eyed Kíli curiously, saying nothing.

"I – I don't know what it was… but it pushed me in, said I'd been looking for it…"

"A pixie?" said Fíli, the words coming out in a snarl. "Really, Kíli? That's the story you're going with?"

"It's not a story!" said Kíli. "That's what happened!"

"I can't believe this," said Fíli, throwing his hands in the air. "You can't even take responsibility for your own actions – you blame it on _pixies_—"

"I'm not lying!" said Kíli defensively. His felt a twinge in his left side, but he kept himself still.

"For Mahal's sake, Kíli!" Fíli shouted. "You're really doing this? I just got scolded by Thorin – called irresponsible, should have been watching you, as if you can't look after yourself – never mind that I saved your _life_; of course there's no thanks for that! Scolded in front of Balin and Dwalin and Glóin, like a child!"

"Fíli—"

"Shut up." Fíli threw on a dry tunic and sat down on the bed, pulling his boots back on hastily. "I'm going out. I'm not dealing with you right now."

Kíli swallowed as a lump developed in his throat. He had never meant for this to happen; it wasn't even his fault. It was no one's fault.

"Fíli, please…"

"Don't talk to me!" Fíli snapped. He stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him. A few moments later, Kíli heard the front door slam as well.

Kíli stared at the bedroom door for a long moment, regret and sorrow sinking down through him painfully. He sat up and peeled off his wet clothes; the air cooled his skin, and goosebumps quickly popped up on his arms and legs. He considered putting on dry clothes, but in his state, he didn't want to do anything but make it right with Fíli, and that was not possible at the moment; so he threw the sopping clothes on the floor and rolled onto his stomach. He pulled the covers over his head and shoved his face into his pillow, willing the building tears away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one.


	2. Missing

_**A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. We're barely beginning here!**_

_**Special thanks and lots of love to my lovely friend Neocolai, who has been giving me lots of awesomely angsty ideas for this fic. If you've read anything by her, you know just what that means. Mwahaha.**_

_**And before I forget again - this entire fic is dedicated to my darling friend Mhyin, who is REALLY AWESOME and has decided to draw an illustration for every chapter of this fic! You can find her illustrations at mhyin-mahar on tumblr. I'd give you a link, but this site eats them. And don't forget to check out lilis-gallery on deviantART for illustrations of Race Against Time! She's still doing those, too!**_

* * *

Kíli awoke with a miserable feeling in his heart and a sharp pain in his side; he looked to his right, but Fíli was not there. He was alone, then. He gritted his teeth and grunted, twisting slightly in an attempt to pull his lung off his ribs. He was rewarded with a terrible scraping feeling, but then the pain melted away; relieved, he relaxed, sinking back into the pillow.

He heard the door open, but ignored it, trying to fall back asleep. His mother's gentle hand touched his back.

"Kíli? Are you awake?"

"Yes," Kíli said into his pillow.

"Are you hungry?"

Kíli considered this. He turned his head to face Dís.

"Yes," he said.

Dís patted his back gently. "There's food ready in the kitchen," she said. "Are you well enough to join us, or shall I-"

"No, I can come out," Kíli said. "Just... give me a few minutes."

"Do you need help?" said Dís

"No!" Kíli said, a little too sharply. "No, I'm fine. Thank you, though."

"...You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine; I just need to... put clothes on," Kíli mumbled.

Dís laughed. "You didn't even bother to dress before getting in bed?"

"No," said Kíli sheepishly, burying his face back into his pillow. _I was too upset._

"Well, join us when you're clothed," she said good-naturedly. Kíli heard her footsteps make towards the door, and he pulled himself up and called out:

"Is Fíli here?"

Dís stopped in the doorway. "Not yet," she replied. "I'm sure he'll be home soon."

"Hmm," said Kíli; he tried to sound unconcerned, but an unsettling feeling turned his insides. Fíli had gone out on his own before - he would be fine. He was always fine.

The bedroom door clicked shut, and Kíli sank into the mattress for a few moments. He steeled himself and whipped off the covers; cool air floated over his skin, and his hair stood on end. Quickly, he scrambled for clothes and pulled them on, tugging down his tunic as he stepped out into the kitchen. Thorin was sitting casually, his arms behind his head and his feet on the table, and Dis was carrying food over from the stove.

"Get your filthy feet off the table," Dís said, slapping at Thorin's legs. Her brother obliged, but he took his time of it, earning himself a disparaging look. Kíli snorted and sat down as Dís laid down her burden, and he tore at a piece of meat, stuffing it into his mouth unceremoniously.

"Where did everyone go?" Kíli asked through a mouth full of food.

"They left hours ago," said Thorin, focused on the meat in front of him.

Kíli blinked and swallowed his food. He looked out the window; to his surprise, the sun was already setting.

"How long was I asleep?" he said.

"Quite a while," said Dís. She cut off a piece of meat in a decidedly more civilized fashion than her brother and her son. "And you looked like you needed it."

Kíli ducked his head, scowling. "I'm fine," he muttered.

"'Fine' does not look like being half carried home by your brother," said Dís, gently but firmly.

"He wasn't _carrying_ me - I just - I was just a bit tired-"

"There is no need to pretend, Kíli," said Thorin. "You almost drowned. No one would think less of you for taking time to recover."

Kíli ripped another bite of meat off his chunk and said nothing.

"Ale?" said Thorin.

Kíli grunted, and Thorin rose to retrieve it.

"Did Fíli say when he would be back?" Kíli said.

Dís shook her head. "He didn't say anything to anyone. He just stormed out."

"Almost knocked Balin over, too," said Thorin. "I'll have to talk to him about that." He set a mug of ale before Kíli, who took a long swig and set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. He ripped off another chunk of meat and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Kíli! Slow down," said Dís, eyeing her youngest sharply. Kíli paused and looked at her blankly.

"I'm hungry," he said.

Dís rolled her eyes, but did not scold him again. Instead, she focused her attention on her brother.

"Thorin! Save some food for your nephew."

Thorin raised his eyebrows and gestured at Kíli.

"He's already got plenty."

"Your _other_ nephew," said Dís. "He'll likely be hungry when he gets home."

"If he comes home," Thorin muttered, eyeing the remaining food wistfully.

Kíli looked up. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Sounded like he needed some space," said Thorin. "He will come back. In his own time."

You think he'll be out all night?" said Kíli, setting down his food and ale as the unsettling feeling returned.

"Honestly, Kíli," said Dís. "Why are you worried? He's a trained fighter, and he's been gone overnight before."

"Not without me," Kíli muttered.

"I thought he didn't want to deal with you right now," said Thorin.

Kíli felt heat rise into his cheeks. "You heard that?"

"It was hard not to."

"You didn't have to scold him like that," said Kíli. "It wasn't his fault."

"That isn't for you to decide," said Thorin sharply, and Kíli bowed his head, chagrined.

"But it wasn't," he said softly.

"Fíli is heir to the throne of Erebor, and as such, he must learn to take responsibility for what has been placed in his charge."

"_Me?_ Uncle, I'm not a child-"

"I've told him to look after you, and he didn't," said Thorin. "It is the duty of an older brother-"

"I don't need looking after!"

"Did your brother just save you from drowning today, or didn't he?" said Thorin, his eyes challenging.

Kíli opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Yes, Fíli had saved him, but he would only prove to Thorin that he _did _need looking after if he pointed out that the rescue meant his brother had _not_ failed. As much as he wanted to defend Fíli, he did not want to admit that. Instead of speaking, he rose and started for the front door.

"And where do you think you're going?" said Dís, rising and following him.

"I'm going to find Fíli," he said.

"No, no you are _not_," said Dís. She caught up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him away from the door and pushing him towards his room. Kíli fought her grip, but she held tight.

"_Mum..._"

"Sit down and eat, or back to bed with you," she said firmly. "You heard Óin. No gallivanting about. You are to _rest_."

"I just rested," Kíli protested.

"Your hands are shaking."

Kíli balled his hands into fists, but he knew he had lost the battle. He allowed himself to be pushed back to the table and sat with a huff - one that cost him his breath, but he recovered quickly, missing Thorin's suspicious glance. The three were silent as they ate their fill; when Kíli had finished, he pushed his plate away and laid his arms on the table, dropping his forehead onto them.

"Kíli, why don't you head back to bed?" said Dís.

Kíli shook his head. "I'll wait for Fíli," he said to the table.

"We don't know how long he'll be, love," said Dís. "Come, get back to bed."

"I'm not tired," Kíli said, even as he felt any energy he'd had leaving him. He felt his mother's gentle hands on his elbows, pulling him up, and he begrudgingly obliged, allowing her to push him towards his room.

"You've been through a lot today," Dís said. "Fíli will come back. You rest."

"I'm not a child," said Kíli, pulling away from her grip.

"Then stop acting like one and use some sense," said Thorin. The words were sharp, but his voice was kind; Kíli ducked his head, still feeling the sting of the rebuke.

"All right, fine," he said, trudging off to his room alone. He shut himself in and dropped face-first onto the bed with a sigh, feeling miserable; after a few minutes, he felt himself dozing off and pulled himself further onto the bed and under the covers. He hadn't wanted to admit it to his mother and his uncle, but he still felt exhausted and short of breath, and it frightened him. He did _not_ like feeling like this - ever. He had had quite enough of it for anyone's lifetime.

Kíli rolled onto his side and pulled his covers up to his chin, staring at the empty space next to him sadly. Surely Fíli was not so angry that he would sleep elsewhere - surely he would be back son. Fíli always forgave him. Always.

* * *

Morning came to Kíli and Fíli's bedroom with bright sun, birdsong, and a distinct lack of one blond dwarf.

Kíli could feel Fíli's absence before he even opened his eyes. The only breathing he heard was his own - thankfully back to normal - and he was definitely stretched into Fíli's space, but he was not touching anyone. He opened his eyes sleepily and looked around, confirming what he already knew - Fíli had not returned.

With a sigh, Kíli whipped off his covers and slid lazily out of bed. He stretched and yawned, and then stumbled out into the kitchen. He looked around; no one was there. Dís and Thorin were already out working for the day, then - apparently they had decided to let him sleep in.

Perhaps Fíli had already come and gone. Kíli comforted himself with this thought as he pulled together some breakfast and ate quietly. Perhaps he was out checking the traps.

After his meal, Kíli geared up for his trek and set off to where he and Fíli had set traps the day before. He found two rabbits, but no Fíli. Disheartened and slightly concerned, Kíli returned home in the late afternoon with his rabbits and found Dís in the kitchen. He handed her his catch, which she received happily as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Fíli been home?" he asked.

"I haven't seen him today," she replied.

Kíli knew that he really should not have been worried, but something in his gut kept telling him that something was wrong. He had to find his brother.

"I'm going to ask around," he said, peering into his and Fíli's room. No Fíli. "I'll be back."

"Wait," said Dís, catching his wrist; he turned to face her again. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," said Kíli honestly. Dís searched his eyes and then nodded, satisfied.

"Don't worry too much, Kíli," she called as he headed for the door. "Fíli can take care of himself."

"I know," Kíli said, but at the moment, he was not sure he believed it.

* * *

"Nowhere," said Kíli, his head in his hands. "He's nowhere."

"He's got to be _somewhere_, Kíli," said Dís. "I'm sure he is fine. Here, let me make you a cup of tea."

"I don't _want_ tea," Kíli grumbled as Dís put water on. "Something is wrong, Mum. I can feel it."

"Where did you search?" she said. Kíli could hear the exasperation in her voice, but he didn't care.

"I checked the traps, I checked the square, the woods, even the creek," Kíli said. "I've asked Balin and Dwalin, Glóin, Gimli, Óin, Dori, Bofur - I even asked Bifur. No one has seen him since yesterday."

The door opened then, and Kíli looked up hopefully, desperate to see his brother's golden hair and swinging braids. Instead, he saw the dark mane of his uncle, and he dropped his head onto the table.

"Evening," said Thorin, perplexed by his nephew's behavior. "Everything all right?"

"Kíli's been looking for Fíli all day," said Dís. "He reckons something has happened to him."

"Why would he stay away this long?" Kíli said, lifting his head. "He couldn't have been _that_ angry. He's never that angry." Kíli met Thorin's eyes and thought he saw a glint of worry there; he seized upon it desperately.

"Let's go search for him, Uncle," he said. "Let's go find him."

"He's only been gone for a day, Kíli," said Thorin. "We'll go search for him, and then he will come home and wonder why we made such a fuss."

"What if he's broken something and can't get home?" Kíli cried. "What if he's - he's gotten hurt, or attacked by orcs, or he's unconscious somewhere-"

"Kíli, calm down," said Thorin. "You know your brother. You know he knows how to fight and survive."

"He's not invincible," Kíli said, giving Thorin a challenging glare.

"Watch your tone, boy," Thorin warned.

Kíli looked down at his hands. "Sorry, Uncle."

"If he isn't back by morning, we'll go out and search, all right?" said Thorin. "I promise."

Kíli didn't _want_ to wait until morning. He wanted to search _now_ - but he knew that Thorin would not agree to a search in the dark. _Fruitless,_ he would say. Not to mention that apparently Kíli was the only one who could sense that something was wrong.

"All right," he said. "In the morning."

"If he has not already returned," Thorin said.

Kíli nodded, but he felt that Fíli would not be back any time soon.

* * *

It was after midnight, and still Fíli had not returned.

Kíli lay in bed alone, his body still, but his mind racing. Horrible images ran through his mind - Fíli bleeding, dying, falling from cliffs, being buried by rocks... a shudder went up his spine. He wasn't dead, at least. Kíli was not sure how he _knew_ - but he did. That knowledge, however, did nothing to calm his fears.

_What would Fíli do?_ Kíli asked himself. If he had gone missing, how long would Fíli wait to search for him?

The answer was surprisingly easy. _He'd go right now._ Kíli whipped off the covers and dressed quickly but silently. Thorin would not go with him - not at this hour. He would see it as foolish, but Kíli did not care. Fíli's life was more important than avoiding his uncle's ire.

If Fíli _was_ hurt, Kíli would need someone with him to help carry - and ponies. They could cover more ground with ponies. But who could he ask? Not Balin or Dwalin - they were fiercely loyal to their king. Getting them involved would only see him being brought back home with stern glances and sharp reprimands. Óin was too much of an old codger to go on such a "fool's errand", and Glóin was almost as loyal to Thorin as Balin and Dwalin, if not just as much.

_Gimli!_ Kíli seized upon the thought of his younger cousin. They were close, and Kíli knew that if he explained his worries to the adventurous dwarf, he would join him in a heartbeat. But how to get Gimli without waking Glóin? He would have to call him from his window.

As quietly as he could manage, Kíli tiptoed out of his room and into the dark kitchen. Even the fire was out - good. Everyone was asleep. He took down his sword and his bow - _just in case,_ he told himself - and made it out of the house successfully.

Now for the ponies. Kíli crept behind the house to their small stable and saddled up his pony. He considered taking Fíli's, too - but that would only slow him down. If Fíli needed to ride, Kíli would walk.

"Come on, Basil. Quietly," he whispered to his pony. She followed him obediently until they stopped at Glóin's home, where he pulled a treat from his pocket and held it up to Basil's mouth. She took it happily, and Kíli stroked her mane.

"Stay here, girl," he whispered. "I'll be right back."

Basil stayed put, and Kíli crept up to Gimli's window, as he had many times before. The only dwarf who could cause more trouble than Fíli and Kíli was Gimli - when he was with his two older cousins. Kíli was sure that Glóin did not appreciate the two princes' influence on his only son, but Gimli had little regard for any opinion, save his own.

Kíli tapped on the glass of Gimli's window, squinting as he peered inside. It was dark - clearly, Gimli was asleep.

_Tap-tap tap-tap-tap tap-tap._ It was their code. If the blasted dwarf would wake up, he would know it was Kíli. He tried again. _Tap-tap tap-tap-tap tap-tap._

Several moments later, Gimli's tired face appeared in the window. He opened it quickly, and Kíli jumped out of the way before it hit him in the face.

"What?" Gimli growled.

"Come outside. Bring your axe. I need your help," Kíli said.

"Where are we going?" Gimli said, and Kíli grinned. Of course Gimli would come with him. He always did.

"Fíli's still not back," he said. "I think something has happened to him. We're going to go search."

Gimli studied Kíli's face for a moment; then, he nodded seriously.

"I'll meet you out back," he said, disappearing into the inky darkness of his room.

"Bring your pony!" Kíli called, and then he ran to retrieve Basil.

Gimli appeared quickly with his own pony and his axe strapped onto his back. The cousins nodded in greeting, and Kíli mounted Basil as Gimli hopped on his own pony.

"Where to?" Gimli said.

"I already searched the woods," said Kíli. "Let's start up at the base of the mountain... there are caves for shelter there. Maybe he's that way."

"And if he isn't?" said Gimli.

Kíli set his mouth into a grim line.

"We keep looking."

* * *

Hours and hours had gone by, and still Kíli and Gimli had found no sign of their missing kin. They had finally decided to split up and search, reasoning that they could cover more ground that way, though they both kept their weapons at the ready. If someone - or something - had the strength or skill to take out Fíli, it would certainly be a worthy opponent for either dwarf.

Kíli looked towards the east, worriedly observing the growing light in the sky. Thorin and Dís would be waking soon to find not just one, but two missing young dwarves, and Kíli cringed to think of the verbal lashing he would receive.

_No,_ Kíli told himself. _Focus. Fíli is more important._

"Gimli!" he called.

"What?" came his younger cousin's gruff voice from behind him.

"Anything?"

"Nothing. We'll find him, Kíli."

"If he's even around here," Kíli muttered. He was beginning to seriously doubt himself now. What if Fíli had come home during the night, and Kíli was worried for nothing?

_But what if he didn't?_ his mind said. In his heart, he could still feel that something was not right; it was a feeling that was too strong to ignore. He tromped off further towards the north.

"There are a few more caves this way," Kíli called. "Let's check those - but I don't think he would go much further than that."

"Aye, it's further than I've gone," said Gimli, catching up with his older cousin.

They banded back together and searched further north, taking the caves one at a time, each with his own torch. After three more caves with no luck, Kíli was ready to give up. The morning sun shone into the cracks and crevices of the rocks and cliffs, rendering their torches unnecessary, and they got rid of them with heavy hearts.

"Maybe he's already home," Gimli said hopefully as they both mounted their ponies.

"If he is, I'll kill him," Kíli joked, though his own humor was lost on him. His stomach churned with disquiet. He turned and looked behind, hoping that he had not somehow missed his brother and doomed him to suffer alone. Perhaps when he went out again with Thorin...

A cave further up caught his eye then - one that he couldn't recall seeing before. A small stream of water trickled from it, and Kíli narrowed his eyes. Without a word, he turned Basil and kicked galloping off towards one more unexplored cave.

"Kíli!" called Gimli, but he ignored him, pressing onward. A sick feeling was rising in his stomach, and he felt certain that this one, this cave, held some answer for him.

Kíli dismounted and peered into the cave warily. The mouth was wide and low, and Kíli could hear the rushing of stronger waters inside that clearly supplied this little stream. He stepped in and looked about, letting his eyes adjust to the lesser light and drawing his sword. Wolves, wargs, goblins, bandits - he was ready. Someone was here - he could feel eyes on him.

"Fíli?" he called, searching left and right. "Fíli, are you here? Are you hurt?"

The only answer he got was his own echo. He gripped his sword tighter and took a few more steps. The feeling of being watched was stronger now, and he wished that he had not left Gimli so far behind. He needed someone to watch his back.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Kíli could see that the cave was wide, but relatively shallow, with no twists or turns to be found. It almost looked to be carved by hands, it was so perfectly circular; the only indication of the rushing water he heard was a small waterfall near the back, its source too small to allow a dwarf through. No chance of Fíli there, then. _There must be a river running through the mountain,_ Kíli thought. Boulders were peppered throughout the cave, and the floor was uneven; Kíli tripped once, even as he tried to watch his step.

"Fíli?" he called again, but there was no answer. He sighed and twirled his sword impatiently, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rising as he stepped further inside. There was someone - some_thing_ - here. He was sure of it; whatever it was, he could not see it, and it made him nervous. He wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Swiftly, he swept through the cave, but no Fíli. Exasperated and beyond worried, Kíli dropped his sword tip-down into the stone and cursed.

Then something caught his eye.

Kíli turned his sword carefully, watching the bar of light reflected by the morning sun bounce off the walls of the cave. Everywhere it was a white, wet light - but then Kíli saw it again. A flash of gold. He wiggled the blade, and the gold flash remained, hidden behind a boulder. Kíli sidestepped, picking up his sword and holding it at the ready. _Please don't be dead,_ he thought. _Please be okay. If that's you, Fíli, please don't be dead._

Kíli took a deep breath and stepped closer to the flash of gold, hoping that the unmoving glint of light was _not_ his big brother - that Fíli was home safe and sound, drinking ale or smoking his pipe; that Kíli would come home and Fíli would laugh at him for being so worried. Maybe even call him a fool. Kíli would gladly take the teasing as long as his big brother - his Fíli - was alive.

As the mysterious golden light came into view, Kíli held his breath, fearing the worst but desperate for the best. He closed his eyes tight and took a final step forward; then, he opened his eyes.

A low moan escaped Kíli's lips, and he was vaguely aware of the sound of his sword hitting the ground as he ran forward and crashed to his knees beside the motionless figure. His worst prediction had come true - for the still body beside him was none other than Fíli.

* * *

_**Phew, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I have a feeling that these ones are going to be longer than Race Against Time - but that is totally okay with me. It just means it'll take me longer to write them. I'm going to guess that you'll be waiting about a week on average between updates. Sorry about the slow update rate, but I'm busy!**_


	3. Nightmares

_**A/N: SURPRISE! This chapter was originally going to be way longer, but I felt that this was adequate, and my tumblr followers unanimously voted that I publish a shorter chapter NOW rather than a longer chapter LATER. So the second part of what was planned as this chapter will be chapter 4. If you'd like to get in on the tumblr action - I post sneak peeks and ask for opinions on a daily basis - follow my blog at wonderingsandwitticisms. Moving on!**_

* * *

"Fíli!" Kíli cried, shaking his brother's shoulders. "Fíli, wake up!"

No response came from the blond dwarf, and Kíli moaned in horror. He put a hand on Fíli's cheek, and all the blood drained from his face.

He was ice cold.

"No," Kíli whispered, shaking his head as his heart pounded even harder. "No, no, no, no no no no no _no_…"

He slapped his brother's cheek gently. _Wake up, Fíli. You have to wake up. You can't be dead._ When no response came, Kíli bit back a wail and sucked in a deep breath; he laid two trembling fingers on Fíli's jugular and closed his eyes, desperate to feel a pulse. A relieved, manic laugh left him as he felt a steady _thump-thump_, and he leaned down and rested his cheek on Fíli's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat.

"Oh, Mahal," he whispered. He did not move for a while, willing his own heartbeat to come back to normal as relief washed over him. Fíli was alive. He was unconscious, but he was alive. Then he came back to the present and realized that he needed to _do something_. He rose to his feet and dashed to the mouth of the cave.

"Gimli!" he shouted. "Gimli, come quickly!"

Gimli was already halfway there, but he seemed to have been taking his time to get to the cave. Kíli could understand his hesitation; they had been searching for hours, and the further north they went, the further south they'd have to go to get back home. They were already at least an hour, if not two, from the village. When he saw Kíli waving, however, the younger dwarf quickly made his way to the cave and dismounted.

"Did you find him?" he said.

"Yes, but he won't wake," said Kíli, his voice cracking. "He's ice cold. Let's carry him out into the sun."

Gimli nodded and followed Kíli inside to where Fíli lay motionless. They both knelt beside the blonde's still frame; Kíli shook his brother once more, but Fíli still remained unresponsive.

"What's wrong with him?" said Gimli.

"I don't know," said Kíli. He quickly checked him over for wounds or broken bones. "Nothing is broken… no injuries that I can see. Come, let's get him into the light."

Kíli and Gimli lifted Fíli between them and carried their kin into the morning sun; they laid him in the damp grass and looked him over once more.

"He's so cold," Gimli remarked. "Hypothermia?"

"Maybe," said Kíli. "But his breathing and heartbeat are too strong. If he were freezing to death, he would have been dead by now, wouldn't he?"

"Let's get him home," said Gimli. "I'll get my uncle. Maybe he'll know."

"Right," said Kíli, and the two dwarves lifted Fíli onto Basil. Gimli held him in place as Kíli ran back for his forgotten sword; then, Kíli took his cousin's place at Fíli's side, and Gimli mounted his own pony. They began the long trek home with hearts full of trepidation; not once did Fíli stir.

* * *

"_Thorin!_" Kíli cried from outside his home. "Uncle! Come quickly!"

Thorin came outside moments later, his expression crossed with a fury that melted the moment he saw his elder nephew doubled over on Kíli's pony. He rushed to Fíli's side and gripped his face, lifting his head to search for signs of life.

"What happened?" said Thorin brusquely.

"I don't know," said Kíli. "I found him unconscious in a cave up north."

"Is that where you and Gimli snuck off to?" said Thorin. "Glóin came by this morning, and he was livid. Where _is_ Gimli?"

"He's getting Óin."

"Well, let's get your brother inside," Thorin said. "Help me carry him."

They brought Fíli in together and laid him in bed; Thorin checked his pulse and his breathing. Finding nothing amiss, he laid a hand on Fíli's forehead.

"He doesn't have a fever," he mused.

"He was ice cold when I found him," Kíli said. "Gimli thought it might be hypothermia, but – aside from how cold he was, there was no sign of it."

"Hm," said Thorin, looking his elder nephew over worriedly; he brushed a stray hair off Fíli's face. Kíli and Thorin sat in silence for a moment, both wrapped up in their own thoughts.

"I _knew_ something was wrong," said Kíli quietly. "I could feel it… no one believed me."

Thorin looked up at Kíli then, a look in his blue eyes that the young dwarf did not recognize.

"Kíli—"

"I'm here! I'm back," called Gimli from the kitchen, startling the king and the younger prince. "I've brought Uncle."

"Óin," Thorin called. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," said Óin. "Let me see him."

Kíli stood in the corner of the room and chewed anxiously on his thumbnail as Óin examined his brother. After checking his heart, his breathing, and various other things, Óin sighed and shook his head.

"Take off his shirt," said Óin, and Gimli and Thorin quickly stripped Fíli of his tunic. Óin checked him over and shook his head again.

"I cannot see any cause for unconsciousness," he said. "He is perfectly healthy. He just isn't awake."

"Will he, though?" said Kíli. "Wake up, I mean."

"I don't know, lad," said Óin. "I don't know why he is unconscious. We will just have to watch him and hope he wakes."

"Could you try smelling salts?" Thorin suggested.

"Oh! Yes," said Óin, and he retrieved them from his bag. Kíli held his breath as the old apothecary passed them under Fíli's nose, but still he did not stir. Kíli let out a soft moan and slid to the floor, taking his head in his hands.

"I _knew_ something was wrong, I _knew_ it, I knew it, I knew it," he moaned. "Why did no one listen to me?" He looked up at Thorin pleadingly. "_Why didn't you listen to me?_"

"Kíli, I didn't know—"

"You didn't know! _You_ didn't! _I_ did!" Kíli shouted. "You said he would be fine! Look at him!" He threw his hand forward towards his brother. "He is _not_ fine!"

"Calm down, lad," Thorin said. "I had no reason to believe—"

"You had _me_!" Kíli exploded. He felt tears well up in his eyes and did not hold them back. "But you didn't listen! You _never_ listen!"

"Enough," said Thorin sharply, and Kíli bowed his head, gripping his hair tightly and breathing hard. The room was silent for several long moments as Kíli fought to regain his composure. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped and looked up into Gimli's concerned eyes.

"You all right, Kíli?" he said.

Kíli sniffed and nodded vacantly. "I'll be fine," he said with a wavering voice. Gimli smiled sadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and patted his cousin's shoulder. Kíli looked beyond the ruddy young dwarf to Thorin and Óin.

"Is there anything that can be done?" he said.

"We wait," said Óin.

* * *

Kíli sat alone in his and Fíli's room, cross-legged on the bed next to his unconscious brother. He still had not so much as stirred in the hours since Kíli and Gimli had brought him home, and Kíli's heart was continually in his throat. With no clue as to what was wrong, he had no clue when – or if – his brother would wake up.

Kíli undid the braids in Fíli's hair and ran his fingers through the waves, untangling the snarls that always found their way into his brother's long, golden hair. He began to re-braid the loose hair, taking care to make the braids straight and clean.

"You always want to look nice," Kíli murmured. "Even in your sleep…"

It was true. Fíli would take out his braids and re-do them before bed, only to take them out again in the morning and repeat the routine. Kíli had never understood it, but it was so characteristically _Fíli_ that doing it made him feel some sort of normalcy. He finished the four braids and sighed, dropping his hands into his lap forlornly and staring at his brother.

"Wake up," he whispered. "Please, Fee."

Suddenly, Fíli inhaled sharply and furrowed his brow; Kíli's eyes widened as hope and excitement blossomed in his chest.

"Fíli?" he called softly, laying a hand on the covers over his brother's chest and shaking him gently. "Wake up, brother."

Fíli whimpered, but his eyes did not open; Kíli shook him again.

"What's the matter, Fíli?" he said. "Wake up."

Instead, Fíli let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Kíli jumped back, heart pounding, as Fíli lashed out, his arms still pinned under the covers. He let out another scream and thrashed violently, and Kíli reached out to grab his arms.

"Fíli!" he said frantically. "Calm down! It's all right! Wake up!"

Fíli let out a moan and yanked at his brother's grip, but Kíli held him tight. Thorin ran into the room with wide eyes, freezing at the sight before him.

"Uncle, _help_!" Kíli cried. "He won't wake!"

Thorin came to the bedside and tried to take hold of Fíli's face, but the blond dwarf was tossing his head back and forth as he writhed on the bed. He curled suddenly into a ball, pulling his arms protectively over his head despite Kíli's grip and let out an agonized wail. Kíli let go, horrified, and looked up at Thorin, who was hesitantly reaching out to his older nephew as he curled into a tighter and tighter ball, his wailing still not ceasing. As Thorin touched his face, he jerked back and screamed again. Quickly, Thorin withdrew his hands, stricken.

"What do we do?" said Kíli.

"Try to wake him again," Thorin said. "Keep trying."

Kíli nodded and shook Fíli's shoulder, sending him only further into hysterics, but Kíli only shook him again.

"Fíli! It's all right!" he shouted. "Wake up!"

"Kíli, his hands," Thorin said.

"What about—oh, Fee," Kíli said, horrified. Blood beaded up from Fíli's palms where he had dug in with his fingernails; Kíli grabbed his hands, struggling to keep his hold as his brother jerked away from him, and fought to pry his hands open. Fíli let out a hoarse wail and shook his head violently, kicking his legs. Thorin leaned on them before Fíli could do any more damage.

"Give me one of his hands," Thorin shouted over Fíli's wails. Kíli pulled one of Fíli's arms towards his uncle and worked on pulling his brother's fingernails out of the palm of his other hand. He was finally successful, and he held the screaming dwarf's hand tightly. Fíli squeezed back, and a trickle of blood ran down Kíli's arm. Thorin passed Fíli's other open hand to Kíli, who took it and locked his elbows over Fíli's to keep his arms in place.

"Brother, please, wake up," Kíli cried as Fíli fought to escape his grip. "It's all right, Fee. Wake up. Come on. Please."

The only response from Fíli was panicked gasping as he struggled violently to escape. Blood began to trickle down Kíli's other arm. He leaned forward, putting his weight on his brother's heaving chest, and pressed his forehead into his shoulder.

"It's okay," he said hoarsely. "It's okay – it's all right – you're safe now. You're safe, Fee. It's _all right_."

Fíli still struggled, but he was pinned underneath his brother and his uncle now and could not harm himself. For long minutes, Kíli continued to speak comforting words through his brother's screams and wails, tears flowing from his own eyes as the unconscious dwarf jerked beneath him and never woke. After what felt like an eternity, something broke, and Fíli finally stopped struggling. Silence fell as the air became void of Fíli's unconscious screams, and in the vacuum of sound only the harsh breathing of the three dwarves could be heard.

Hesitantly, Kíli lifted himself off his brother and peered into his face. Tear tracks crossed his cheeks and the sides of his face, but his expression was once again placid. His hair was everywhere, bits of it stuck to his wet cheeks. One of the braids Kíli had just put in had come undone. Kíli held Fíli's hands with one hand and used the other to brush away the stray hairs; he cringed when he left a smudge of blood on his brother's cheek. Fíli was still – as still has he had been when Kíli had found him cold in the cave.

"What… in Durin's name… was _that_?" said Thorin. Kíli had never heard his uncle so afraid.


	4. Confusion

_**A/N: I'M SORRY! You guys are so cute. I've gotten messages from several of you asking if I'm okay. Well, here I am! I'm fine. I was going to have this finished a week and a half ago, but I didn't manage to do it, and then I got my wisdom teeth out. Writing plus Percocet equals no, so that put me out for a while. Plus, this chapter was super hard to write. But I've finally finished it, and I promise I won't leave you hanging for that long again. I hope it was worth the wait!**_

* * *

The sound of the front door flying open and quick footsteps startled Kíli out of his reverie, and he cringed. He knew those footsteps; Dís was home.

"Thorin, where is he? Where is my son?" she shouted the moment she was inside.

"How did you—"

"I spoke to Gimli on the road. Why didn't you come for me?"

"Dís, he isn't just unconscious, he's—"

"Where _is_ he, brother? In his room?"

"Yes, but Dís, listen—"

The bedroom door opened suddenly, and Dís ran to the bedside and sat down beside her eldest, placing a hand on his brow. She looked up at Kíli with shining eyes.

"How long as he been unconscious?" she said.

"I don't know, Mum – I found him like this," said Kíli. "We can't wake him for anything."

Dís closed her eyes and pursed her lips, taking in a deep breath. She opened her eyes again and stroked Fíli's brow; he did not stir.

She leaned down next to his ear. "Fíli, wake up," she whispered. When Fíli did not respond, she kissed his forehead and whispered to him again.

"What's wrong with him?" she said.

"We don't know. Óin didn't even know."

Dís glanced up at Kíli, her brow furrowed. "Not even Óin could figure it out?"

Kíli shook his head. "There's… something else, too, Mum," he said. "Gimli didn't see, but he's – there's something going on with him."

"Well, he's unconscious," Dís said pointedly.

"No, in – in his head. In his mind," said Kíli. Dís stared at him, her expression blank in complete bewilderment. Kíli swallowed and looked away from her piercing blue eyes.

"He keeps screaming. Like he's in a nightmare, and he can't wake up. He won't wake up. He – he just screams and screams, and I – we can't get him to stop."

"He's not screaming now."

"Well, he'll stop on his own, but nothing we do seems to help." Kíli felt his throat thicken as tears stung the corners of his eyes. "I don't know what to do. He's done it four times now."

Dís looked down at her eldest son and stroked his cheek gently.

"Oh, my child," she whispered.

As if on cue, Fíli inhaled sharply, and Kíli's heart stopped.

"Oh, no," he moaned, reaching for his brother's hands and holding them tightly. Instantly, Fíli squeezed back, and Kíli closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the screams.

"What's happening?" said Dís.

"Lean on his legs," Kíli said.

"What?"

"Mum, trust me," said Kíli, nodding at Fíli's legs as he fought to keep his brother's hands in his own. As she leaned forward and took her son's legs, he let out a hoarse scream that rattled the window and began to jerk violently. Kíli leaned all his weight on Fíli's upper body, keeping his head far away from his brother's. He had learned earlier that Fíli's head made a painful weapon, and he had the lump to prove it.

"Fíli, calm down!" Dís shouted over her eldest son's howling.

"It's no use," said Kíli. "You just have to hold him so he doesn't hurt himself."

Dís nodded, wide-eyed, and held Fíli's legs as still as she could. Thorin flew into the room and was instantly on the bed, his hands on either side of Fíli's face as he attempted to stop the thrashing dwarf from hitting his head on anything or anyone. Kíli could feel his brother trying to curl up beneath him, but he stayed in place, fighting tears as Fíli screamed and fought with the three dwarves holding him down.

"Shouldn't we just leave him be instead of holding him down like this?" said Dís.

"No!" Thorin and Kíli shouted together. They had tried that; not only had Fíli pushed his fingernails so hard into his bandages that he had re-opened the wounds on his palms, but he had rolled so close to the edge of the bed that he had almost fallen off. Thorin and Kíli had learned after that to keep him in one place.

The struggled lasted a few minutes, and then finally Fíli was still. The three lifted themselves off him hesitantly, hoping for some change, but still Fíli remained unconscious. Kíli stared at his brother, holding back a sob that fought to escape him; he heard a sniffle and a whimper behind him, and then saw Dís running out of the room from the corner of his eye. Thorin's worried gaze followed her, and then he jumped to his feet and chased after his little sister.

"Dís? Dís!" he called, and then he was gone; Kíli remained with his brother.

He may have been in a room with Fíli, but he felt completely and utterly alone.

* * *

A harrowing night turned into a grey, gloomy morning, and no one in the house had gotten any sleep – unless Fíli's horror-ridden state counted. Kíli was sure that it didn't.

The day seemed to fly by, even though little changed. Óin came by to check on Fíli, but he left as clueless as he had come, promising to stop by the next day with some concoction he was dreaming up. Besides the apothecary, they had no visitors; by midday, rain was falling steadily, and it was the only sound save for Fíli's screams.

The only mercy was that as the day drew on, Fíli's episodes became less frequent, and the other inhabitants of the house managed to get some sleep towards the evening; Kíli would not leave his brother alone, however, insisting on sleeping near him to keep him safe. Indeed, had he not been there, Fíli surely would have hurt himself several times through the evening and the night. By morning, the nightmares seemed to have stopped completely. Kíli would have rejoiced, but still Fíli would not wake, and his hope was failing. Maybe his brother would never wake – it was a thought that Kíli could not bear, but try as he might, he could not get it to leave his mind: Fíli wasting away, dying of thirst or hunger or whatever was keeping him deeply unconscious, and Kíli could not do a thing but just watch.

_This is all my fault._

The thought assaulted him suddenly and pierced his heart, leaving him gasping with watery eyes. If only he had not gone off on his own. If only he had not been so _childish_. Searching for pixies? Fíli was right. He had been such a child.

_But there _was_ a pixie,_ he thought. _Something_ had spoken to him. _Something_ had pushed him into the water. _Something_ had—

A sudden movement from Fíli pulled Kíli from his thoughts, and he sat up straight, hope and dread coursing through him simultaneously. As Fíli began to curl into a ball, dread won out, and Kíli reached for Fíli's hands.

"Uncle! Mum!" he shouted, hoping one of them was within hearing distance. A scream escaped Fíli's lips, and Kíli held on tight as he began to thrash.

"Uncle! Mum! Help!" he cried, but no one seemed to hear; Kíli was alone. Thorin and Dís should have stayed near, but it was too late for should-haves. He had to keep his brother from hurting himself. He leaned over Fíli's torso and gritted his teeth as another scream was ripped from his brother's throat, so loud that Kíli thought the Blue Mountains would shake; Kíli jerked his head back as Fíli suddenly turned, just missing being whipped by a braid. He looked down at his brother, deeply grieved, and then let out a sharp gasp.

Fíli's eyes were open.

"Fíli?" Kíli breathed, and then Fíli threw him off the bed.

Kíli stumbled and hit the wall, grunting as air flew out of his lungs and left him breathless. Fíli dove out of the bed towards his brother, fists clenched, but Kíli recovered quickly and caught them before they made contact.

"It's all right, Fíli! It's me! It's Kíli!" he cried as the blond dwarf fought to get his hands back. Fíli did not relent, however. He brought his knee up to Kíli's crotch – _hard_. Kíli gasped and dropped to his knees as a wave of extreme nausea washed over him – he couldn't move; he couldn't breathe. Fíli took advantage of his paralysis with a punch to the side of the head, and Kíli fell on his side, still unable to move as stars danced before his eyes.

"F-Fee, it's – it's me," he gasped, holding his arms protectively over his face. "S-stop, please. Please."

As Fíli pulled his foot back to kick, two arms wrapped around him and locked behind his head, pulling him away before his foot could make contact with Kíli's ribcage. Kíli rolled away, facing the wall and gasping harshly as he tried to regain the ability to move.

"Let go!" Fíli growled behind him.

"Calm down, Fíli!" said Dís. "Stop fighting!"

A grunt was all that Kíli heard from his brother, but apparently Dís had a good grip on him, because he did not rush forward again. A hand touched Kíli's shoulder.

"Are you all right?" said Thorin in a low voice.

Kíli shook his head and let out a strained groan as he curled into a ball; Thorin's grip on his shoulder tightened.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"Kneed… me," Kíli gasped. "Punched me, too." He groaned again as his insides tightened in pain, and Thorin slipped an arm underneath him to pull him upright. He eased his nephew up slowly until he was sitting on the floor; Kíli turned to see his brother, who seemed to have surrendered to Dís, though he didn't look happy about it. Their mother still held Fíli tightly with his arms behind his back, her mouth set in a grim line.

"F-Fíli?" Kíli said cautiously, watching his brother's face, but there was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. Kíli swallowed.

"Fíli, do you recognize us?" Thorin said.

Fíli glared at Thorin with such ferocity that Kíli gasped, and Thorin's grip on Kíli's arm tightened. Fíli pulled at Dís's grip, but she was strong, and still he could not escape.

"Let me _go_," said Fíli, attempting to turn but unable to move his mother. Suddenly he hissed and started, his head turning to the side as he attempted to look behind.

"Ach, that _hurts_."

"Then calm down and sit," said Dís firmly. "You've been unconscious for – for who knows how long. You shouldn't be fighting. Look what you've done to your brother!"

"My _what_?" said Fíli, his eyes turning their icy gaze onto Kíli. All the blood drained from Kíli's face and his heart thumped hard at those words. He turned his questioning gaze to Thorin; his uncle was eyeing Fíli curiously with a strange look in his eye.

"He doesn't recognize us," he said.

"Of course I don't!" Fíli spat. "I've never met you in my life. Now let me go!"

"Fee—" Kíli started, but a quick squeeze on his arm silenced him as Thorin studied his elder nephew, his face unreadable.

"If she lets you go, are you going to attack us?" he said.

A disgusted growl sounded from Fíli's throat, but he shook his head.

"Do I have your word?"

"You have my word," said Fíli through gritted teeth.

Thorin nodded. "Dís, let him go."

Dís released her grip, and Fíli ripped himself away from her with a wrathful glare. He turned and regarded Thorin and Kíli, who were still on the floor; Kíli could tell from the look in his eye that he was sizing them up – seeing which one of them was the bigger threat. His gaze settled on Thorin, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Can you stand?" Thorin murmured to Kíli.

"N-not quite yet," Kíli replied. He still felt sick, pain throbbing between his legs and coursing through his stomach and his thighs. Thorin helped him lean against the wall and stood to his feet.

"You have committed assault against another dwarf, Fíli," he said.

"Uncle!" Kíli exclaimed; at the same time, he heard his mother cry out, "Thorin!"

"Quiet," Thorin commanded. Kíli knew better than to interrupt, and he clamped his jaw shut. "This is a crime punishable by jail time, the length of which will be determined by myself and my advisors as your king. As you have proven yourself untrustworthy, you will remain here until an escort can be arranged. Any attempt to escape will be met with a greater sentence. Am I understood?"

"Uncle, you can't—" Kíli started, but Thorin silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Am I understood?" he repeated.

Fíli nodded stiffly, his fists clenching and unclenching as he seethed. Kíli looked back and forth between Thorin and Fíli, his eyes wide. What was Thorin _thinking_? Fíli hadn't _assaulted_ him. He had clearly been in the grip of whatever horrors were in his dreams – Fíli would _never_ hurt him. Not on purpose.

But he _had_ said that he didn't recognize them… Kíli's gaze flicked back to Fíli, and he searched his brother's eyes for any sign of recognition. Once again, he found none. Fíli's icy blue eyes turned to Kíli, and the younger dwarf looked down, his insides churning—from the knee to his crotch or his brother's behavior, he could not tell. Suddenly Thorin was kneeling before him, his expression drawn.

"Come, Kíli," he said. "To the kitchen." He reached out and helped his nephew stand, and then led him to the door. As they passed through the doorway, Thorin stopped and turned back to Fíli.

"Do _not_ attempt anything."

With that, Thorin pulled Kíli out of the room, and Dís followed after them, her expression heated with enough fury to melt silver. She slammed the door behind her and immediately began to shout.

"_Jail time?_ Thorin, what in Durin's name is wrong with you? He didn't assault Kíli! He didn't know what he was doing!"

"I know what this looks like to you, sister, but I know what I am doing," said Thorin as he eased Kíli into a chair at the table. "I have to go. Now. Make sure he doesn't escape from that room."

"You can't throw _my son_ in jail, Thorin!" Dís bellowed. "He is your heir! Listen to me!" She dashed forward and seized Thorin's arm, pulling him away from the front door.

"Dís, we will discuss this later. I have to go," Thorin said.

"Thorin, if our people see your heir in jail…"

"I know, Dís," Thorin snapped. "I said we will discuss this later."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Your son does not recognize his closest kin. I thought this would be a good time to get some help," he said, wrenching his arm out of his sister's grip. Dís nodded, suddenly understanding, and took a step back.

"Make sure he stays put," Thorin ordered, and then he was gone.

* * *

"We have a grave situation on our hands," said Thorin, looking at each of the dwarves at the table in turn – Kíli, Dís, Óin, Glóin, Balin, and Dwalin. All had on concerned, attentive faces, save for Dís, who seemed ready to explode in her wrath. Her foot tapped on the floor impatiently, and her fingertips drummed on the table as she glared at her older brother. When Thorin had said he was going for help, she had not expected four dwarves to accompany her brother back to the house.

"Ye still haven't told us why we're here," said Dwalin, leaning in towards his cousin.

"Aye, and where's Fíli?" added Balin.

Thorin glanced at Óin before he spoke.

"Before we discuss this matter, I need all of you to swear that this conversation does not leave this house."

The dwarves exchanged glances with each other before a chorus of "aye"s arose from around the table.

"Good," Thorin said; he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "As you all know, Fíli walked out on us the other day after the incident with Kíli. Well, he didn't come back. Not on his own. Kíli and Gimli found him in a cave up north."

"Is he all right?" said Balin.

Thorin surveyed the dwarves before him before responding.

"No, he isn't," he said.

Kíli sank down low in his chair and looked at the table, his stomach twisting as it struck him harshly – Fíli was _not_ all right. He was very, very not all right. He might never be all right again. That thought struck him painfully, and he cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. _No_, he told himself. _He'll get better. He has to._

"Well, what's wrong with him?" Balin prompted.

"He still hasn't awakened?" said Óin.

"No, he has," said Kíli. "But… just today. And he – he doesn't recognize us."

"What do you mean?" said Dwalin, his furry eyebrows drawn together.

"He attacked Kíli," said Thorin. "Said he'd never seen us before in his life."

"Fíli would never attack Kíli," said Glóin in a hushed tone.

"Aye, but he did," said Thorin. "I've charged him with assault on a fellow dwarf—"

"A terrible idea!" Dís exclaimed amidst outcries of shock from her fellow dwarves. "What happens when someone sees him locked up? The heir of Thorin Oakenshield jailed for actions that were out of his control! How will people trust him as next in line to the throne of Erebor – granted we can reclaim it – if he is seen as a _criminal_?"

"He is in no position to be my heir at all if he remains the way he is," Thorin snapped.

Silence fell over the table as Thorin's words sank in. Kíli's eyes widened as he realized the full extent of the situation—Fíli, disinherited, leaving _him_ as next in line. Kíli, the heir to the throne of Erebor. No – that wasn't his place. The throne was for Fíli, not him. He was meant to be the advisor to his brother, always at his side; he was not meant to be the one who tookover after Thorin passed. He didn't _want_ the throne – Fíli was much better suited for such a thing than him. He shook his head and looked up at his uncle with pleading eyes.

"There must be something else we can do," he said.

Thorin nodded gravely. "Aye," he said. "That is why I have called you all here. You are my closest kin; I trust you above all others. I have a plan." He met Kíli's eyes with a meaningful look.

"Do tell," said Dís bitingly.

"First of all, we wait," Thorin continued, ignoring his sister's retort. "Óin, is there anything you know of that could help?"

"With amnesia? Only time," said Óin with a shake of his head.

"We can't sit around and wait for him to snap out of it," said Dís. "He's too violent."

"Which is why I sentenced him to jail time," said Thorin wearily. "Until he is better – granted that he _does_ get better, and for that we must hope – we must keep ourselves and him safe. _That_, sister, is why I have acted thus. Not to punish your son. That is not my intention."

"Dís is right, though," said Dwalin. "If Fíli is seen in jail, he will not be trusted to rule our people."

"That is why I need your help," Thorin said. "If Fíli remains violent, we will need to move him to the jail. It is empty for the time being, but we have to consider the guards. They may talk. I propose that we replace them with dwarves that are loyal – those at this table, and possibly a few others – and bring him there under the cover of night."

"Why can't he stay here?" said Kíli. "Why the jail?"

"We cannot keep him under close enough watch here," said Thorin. "If he hurts anyone—"

"He won't hurt us!" Kíli exclaimed. "He was just – just caught up in his nightmare—"

"Kíli, you heard what he said," Thorin interrupted sharply. "You saw the way he acted."

"He isn't a criminal!" said Kíli heatedly. "He is my _brother_! I won't see him treated like a villain!"

"Kíli, calm down," said Glóin. "Thorin is right. It may be the safest place for him."

"Aye, just until he comes back to himself," said Balin. "There's sense in it, laddie."

Kíli looked to Dís desperately, trying to catch her eye; she turned and met his gaze, her blue eyes shining. Then she shook her head, so slightly that Kíli almost missed it.

"Mum, no," he said, his voice cracking. He looked around the table, but the others would not meet his eye. A sudden rage bubbled up inside him then, and he pounded both fists on the table, making it shake.

"You can't do this!" he roared. "He is your kin! All of you! You would do this to your own family?"

"It's the best option we have, Kíli, and it isn't for sure," said Dís calmly. "I don't like it either, but after hearing your uncle, I have to say that he is right."

"It's _not right_!" Kíli shouted. "I won't let you do this!"

"The decision is not yours to make," said Thorin sharply, rising to his feet. "This is not a punishment. It is a precaution."

Kíli glared at his uncle fiercely, at a loss for words. Suddenly he stood; his chair clattered to the ground behind him, and he stalked off to his room, his mind in a blaze of fury.

"Kíli, don't—"

Kíli opened the bedroom door and was instantly snatched inside, Fíli's arm wrapped tightly around him tightly. Kíli felt the sharp tip of one of Fíli's many knives against his throat, and an icy chill of panic drained him of all ability to move or think. He stood rigid, moving only as his brother dragged him out of the bedroom and six pairs of eyes looked on in horror.

"Stay back!" Fíli said, pulling Kíli with him around the table and towards the front door. "Let me go, and nobody gets hurt."

"Fíli, lad, don't do this," said Glóin, taking a step forward; Kíli felt the tip of the blade press into his throat, and he jerked his head back. The tip came close to his throat again.

"Stay where you are!" Fíli said. They were almost to the door now, and still none of the dwarves had moved – save for Óin, who was slowly reaching for his bag. Kíli watched him curiously as he was dragged to the door.

"Thank you for your hospitality, but I'll be going now," said Fíli; then he let Kíli go and dashed out the front door.

"Óin!" Thorin shouted, and the old apothecary tossed a bottle to his king. Kíli found himself suddenly on his knees, the world swimming before him; Thorin brushed by and out the door at top speed, and Dís knelt beside him, her face drawn with worry.

"Are you all right?" she said, taking his face in her hands.

"I'm – I-I'm fine," Kíli said, pushing her away and rising to his feet.

_He was going to kill me. Fíli threatened to kill me._

Kíli ran out the door.

He could see Thorin in the distance, catching up to Fíli quickly – even at his age, Thorin was faster than either of his nephews. As Kíli watched, Thorin slammed into the blond dwarf and wrapped an arm around him, slapping one hand over his nose and mouth. Fíli struggled for a few moments, and then suddenly collapsed; Thorin caught him clumsily and lowered him to the ground, his hand still over the younger dwarf's face.

Kíli dashed to his side as quickly as his legs would carry him.

"What have you done?" Kíli exclaimed, dropping beside his unconscious brother. Thorin pocketed a rag and the bottle Óin had tossed him.

"Ether," he said breathlessly. "Help me carry him inside. He'll come to in just a minute."

Kíli set aside his outrage for the time being and helped Thorin with the burden of his big brother, his mind racing. They had almost made it to the bedroom when Fíli began to stir; his eyes opened slowly, a bewildered look on his face as his gaze roved. He tried to lift an arm, but it flopped uselessly at his side – he was awake, but the ether was still in his system. They laid him down on the bed, and Thorin beckoned for Óin.

"Quickly," he said.

Óin approached with a thick, red liquid on a spoon, and Thorin pulled open Fíli's jaw to allow Óin to slip it in. Fíli swallowed automatically, the bewildered gaze still lingering on his face; minutes passed silently as the draught took hold, and finally Fíli drifted off to sleep.

"We move him tonight," Thorin said; he tried to sound gruff, but his voice breaking.

* * *

_**Don't forget to check Mhyin on tumblr for illustrations of this fic! Chapters 1 and 2 are up on her blog already, and I love them. And don't forget! I post sneak peeks little tidbits and ask for opinions on my own blog, wonderingsandwitticisms!  
**_

_**Until next time, my loves - don't forget to review! I LOVE hearing what you have to say. :)  
**_


	5. Wrath

**_A/N: Uuuugh, this chapter is way too short to have taken this long! My sincerest apologies. Uh, carry on._**

* * *

_Everything's gone wrong._

The thought coursed through Kíli's head over and over as he sat at the bedside, his head in his hands; Fíli lay beside him, breathing deeply in a drugged sleep. So far, he had slept peacefully with no indication of nightmares, but still Kíli kept close watch.

_You've always taken care of me. Now it's my turn to take care of you._

A knock came at the door, and Kíli raised his head and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened slowly, and Kíli heard his mother's footsteps behind him. He turned his head slightly to the side as she approached and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you need anything?" she said gently; there was a hesitancy to her voice, as if she were afraid to speak. Kíli shook his head but did not say anything, his irritation at her touch almost like a physical itch. His hand twitched.

Dís was silent for a few moments, and then she patted his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. He sat rigidly, neither accepting nor rejecting her touch, and she sighed and removed her hand.

"You're angry with me," she said.

_Angry_ wasn't the word. _Betrayed_ was more like it.

"You agreed with Uncle. About Fíli," he said. Dís took a breath to speak, but Kíli continued. "I thought you were with me. Putting Fíli in jail – he hasn't done anything wrong, Mum. He was just—"

"Caught up in a nightmare? Do you honestly believe that?" Dís said sharply. "Kíli, he threatened to kill you. He held a knife to your throat. He was waiting behind the door. He _planned_ it."

"You agreed to it before that even happened," Kíli snapped. He turned his dark eyes on his mother, and she stared right back, undaunted by the fire in his gaze.

"You are letting your emotions cloud your judgment," said Dís. "You saw his behavior and you heard what he said. This is to keep him – and _you_ – safe."

"Safe? He's my _brother_! He wouldn't—"

"That's enough," Dís said. "You are either unwilling or unable to understand. This is the best we can do in this situation, and that is the end of it. It is not your decision to make."

A thousand angry words coursed through his head in the span of a moment, but sixty-two years of honoring elders stayed his tongue. His insides coiled and his fingers twitched; he clenched his jaw and said nothing as a fierce storm raged in his heart. His mother did not break her gaze. She could be as stubborn as her son if she wished, and she would not allow Kíli to win this silent battle.

The sound of the front door opening took the attention of both of them, and two sets of heavy footsteps made their way towards the bedroom. Kíli's heart leapt in his chest. They were coming for Fíli – he knew it. He placed a hand on Fíli's arm and took a deep breath.

_This can't be happening._

Kíli stood and turned to face the door just as Thorin entered with Dwalin behind him. They looked at him and then at each other, a whole conversation passing silently between them before Thorin turned back to his youngest nephew.

"Kíli—"

"Please, Uncle," said Kíli, feeling the sting of sudden tears in his eyes. He stared at Thorin beseechingly. _Please don't do this._

The old dwarf said nothing; his gaze moved beyond Kíli to Fíli, and he took a step forward. Kíli held out his arms to either side protectively, glaring. With a sigh, Thorin eyed his nephew, earning an increasingly hostile glare in return.

Thorin spoke softly, as if he were coaxing a wary animal to trust him.

"We're not going to hurt him, Kíli."

A feeling niggled into Kíli's mind that he was being ridiculous – of course Thorin wouldn't hurt his brother. Thorin would never harm Fíli. This logic was overridden, however, by the angry pounding drum in his head that said _I won't let them do this_ over and over. He stood his ground, yanking his arm away from Dís's hesitant touch.

"Just give him some time," he said. "Wait until he wakes up. He might be fine then."

"And if he's not?" said Thorin evenly.

Kíli had no answer, but he was too stubborn to back down now. He stayed where he was, his arms held out, as Thorin took another step.

"Kíli, please," Dís pleaded, taking hold of his arm again. He tried to pull away from her, but this time, she held him tightly. Anger boiled up in him as he turned his head to shoot a glare in her direction.

"Mum, let me go," he snapped.

Dís studied him hard for a moment; then she shot a quick look at Thorin. Before Kíli could react, she had both his arms behind him and was pulling him away from the bed, and Thorin and Dwalin moved in and picked up the unconscious Fíli between them. Kíli let out a dismayed shout and fought against his mother's grip, but she held him tightly and he could not escape.

"You can't do this!" he shouted as Thorin and Dwalin left the room with his big brother. "It's not right! It's _not right! You can't do this!_"

"Stop it, Kíli!" said Dís. "You're being childish!"

"They're putting Fíli in jail, Mum!" he said thickly. "In _jail_!"

"They're keeping him _safe_," Dís said sternly. "Until we know what is wrong and if he is better, it's the safest place he can be." She turned him around and forced him to sit on the bed, keeping heavy pressure on his shoulders. He glared up at her sullenly; he knew better than to try to force his way out now. When she was sure that her son was cooperative, she released her hold and sat down next to him.

Suddenly Kíli felt completely overwhelmed, and he turned and buried his face into Dís's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on the top of his head.

"I don't understand," Kíli mumbled.

"What don't you understand?" said Dís.

"How this could happen," he said brokenly. "Fíli would…" He took a breath to steady himself. "He would never hurt me. _Never._"

"No, he wouldn't," said Dís.

Kíli sat up and looked into his mother's eyes; there was such compassion in her gaze that he almost lost his composure. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, squaring his shoulders. Now was not the time for crying.

"I need to go be with him," he said.

Dís's eyebrows drew together. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she said cautiously.

"Why not?" he said. "We don't know _anything._ What if he has nightmares? What if he wakes up alone in a jail cell and—" He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No; I need to be there for him."

Dís sighed, but she nodded. "I won't stop you," she said. "Just promise me that you'll be wise. Be safe."

Kíli stood and kissed his mother's forehead. "I'll be wise," he promised. "I'm going to catch up to Uncle and Mister Dwalin."

Dís and Kíli exchanged halfhearted smiles, and Kíli ran out the door.

* * *

It was dark and silent inside the jail. There was a musty, earthy smell about, and the air held a damp chill often felt in underground places. The jail itself was not underground, but its walls were made of stone, and there had been no effort made to make sure the place was comfortable. Three cells lined one wall; two were empty, and in the one remaining slept Fíli.

Kíli leaned against the far wall, fuming. The only thing stopping him from running into the cell and sitting at his brother's side was a deeply ingrained respect for his elders. If it were up to him, Fíli would be at home in their bed, not on a pallet on the dirt floor. The injustice burned his heart and left a bad taste in his mouth.

In a chair by the cell sat Thorin, smoking his pipe and staring thoughtfully out into nothing. He had taken the first watch; then the duty would pass to Dwalin, and then Thorin would arrange for others if necessary. Kíli, however, was not included in the watch. Thorin had said he was "too emotional" for the task. He had not, however, barred Kíli from merely being present, and so he stayed, watching his brother closely for any signs of waking.

After a long time passed quietly between the two dwarves, Kíli finally decided to speak.

"How much longer will he sleep?"

Thorin's far-off stare returned to the present, and he turned his gaze to Kíli.

"Hm?"

"Fíli. How much longer until he wakes?"

Thorin pulled his pipe out of his mouth with a sigh and looked over at his elder nephew. "I do not know," he said. "I imagine he'll wake up soon. It's been hours."

"He isn't having nightmares," Kíli said. "Maybe he's all right now. Maybe we should—"

"He stays in here until we know for sure," said Thorin sharply, turning his deep blue gaze back on Kíli. They fought with their eyes for a few moments, and then Kíli slumped back against the wall and stared straight ahead, his head buzzing with frustration. Thorin returned to smoking his pipe.

A long time passed, and neither spoke; Thorin seemed perfectly comfortable, brooding quietly in his chair. Every minute of silence grated on Kíli more and more – he could barely stand it, but he would not leave until he saw his brother's eyes open. _Until I know he's better._ He tried to relax by smoking for a bit, but even that could not calm him. He was too restless.

Finally, Fíli stirred, and Kíli dropped his pipe. He dashed forward towards the cell, taking hold of the bars and peering down at his brother desperately. Fíli sat up slowly, swaying and blinking and looking completely bewildered.

"Fí—" Kíli began, but Thorin grabbed his arm and he stopped. He looked to his uncle, perplexed; Thorin shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

"Let him get his bearings," he whispered.

Desperate as he was to make sure his brother was all right, Kíli obeyed, staring wide-eyed into the cell, As Fíli took notice of his surroundings, he seemed to grow alarmed; he looked to his left and his right quickly, and Kíli could hear his breathing quicken. It was a great struggle for the brown-haired dwarf to remained silent – his fingers tightened around the bars until his knuckles turned white, and a small, short whimper sounded from his throat. Fíli finally noticed his kin watching him, and he straightened, his eyes strangely dark even in the low light.

"You drugged me," he said. His voice was soft, but bitterness filtered through all the same.

Thorin nodded stoically. "How are you feeling?" he said, matching the softness in his elder nephew's tone, but his own voice was gentle.

Fíli merely glared at his uncle, and Kíli swallowed nervously. _He's just angry,_ he told himself. _I'd be angry, too. I'm sure he's better._

"W-what do you remember?" said Kíli. Fíli's eyes flicked over to him, and the look he gave was so foreign – so _not Fíli_ – that Kíli took a step away from the cell, though he did not let go of the bars.

"I woke up and _you_ were trying to hold me down," Fíli said. "Then your kin stopped me from escaping – locked me away in that room. And then I – I almost got away, and _he_ drugged me." He nodded at Thorin with narrowed eyes. "Just let me go. I have nothing you need or want."

The more Fíli spoke, the lower Kíli's heart sank. He stepped closer to the cell again, not yet ready to give up.

"But surely you remember us," he said. "It's me, Fee. It's Kíli."

Fíli's brow furrowed, and he shook his head.

"I'm your Kíli," he whispered. "Think. Think back, before you awoke. What do you remember?"

"Kíli, be careful what you say," Thorin muttered, watching Fíli closely. The blond dwarf was shaking his head again, his expression one of complete befuddlement.

"Three days ago? We were at the creek, remember?" Kíli pressed. "You rescued me. You pulled me out of the creek."

"No," Fíli said with a small voice.

"Fee, come on – it's me. Remember when we – when we were kids? I saved you from an orc – chopped its head clean off.* Remember?"

"Stop," Fíli said quietly, taking his head in his hands.

"Or – or when we ruined Bofur's hat and we had to buy him a new one?"

"I don't know—"

"When we beat Mister Dwalin in training! It took the both of us, but we were so proud… surely you remember that!"

"Kíli, stop," said Thorin tersely as Fíli covered his ears, shaking his head violently now.

But Kíli did not listen. "You've _got_ to remember," he said. "Just _think_! It's in there somewhere!"

"Shut _up_!" Fíli shouted. He ripped his trembling hands from his ears and pushed himself up, rushing at the bars of the cell and slamming his hands against them. Kíli stepped away, shocked into silence.

"Shut up! Just _shut up_! You sniveling little worm – you pathetic creature – _I don't know you!_ Just _leave me alone!_"

Kíli opened his mouth and closed it again; he had no idea what to say. His heart pounded and his hands shook. _This can't be happening. This isn't happening._

"Fíli…" Kíli tried to say, but he could make no sound past the lump in his throat.

"Look at you," Fíli snarled. "You're pathetic. Tears in your eyes and everything. Oh, if I weren't in this cell—"

"Kíli, go," Thorin said, rising to his feet. Kíli tried to obey, but he was rooted to the spot.

"I'd wring your skinny little neck," Fíli continued. "I'd love to just—"

"Enough!" Thorin roared; both Fíli and Kíli jumped and looked to their uncle. "Not another word," Thorin said, pointing a finger at Fíli. The blond pushed off the bars and settled back on his pallet, glaring. Thorin turned to Kíli then and took hold of his face, turning him away from his brother.

"Kíli – go," he said. His voice was gentle, but it was a command. Kíli shook his head and tried to look at Fíli, but Thorin turned him back. He could feel a tear sliding down his cheek.

"We'll take care of this. We'll fix this – somehow. But for now – Kíli – _go home._"

Kíli took in a hitched breath and nodded. _Pathetic._ He wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks, and Thorin let him go. Without another word, he ran out the door and did not stop running until he had reached home.

"Kíli? Kíli, what's the matter?" said Dís as he flew through the kitchen to his bedroom. He was fighting so hard to keep it together, but he could not stop the tears. He dropped onto his bed and wrapped his arms around the first pillow he touched, burying his face into it. It smelled like Fíli.

_Pathetic._ A muffled sob escaped him.

"Kíli?" said Dís; the mattress moved, and her fingers were suddenly in his hair. He shook his head and gripped the pillow tighter.

"Please go," he said.

Her fingers stopped, and her hand slid down to his back.

"What's happened?"

"_Please_, Mum!" Kíli choked out.

Dís was silent for a moment. Finally, with a gentle pat, she rose and left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, a muted sob left his lips. _Pathetic._

Whatever had happened to Fíli, his brother was gone. The dwarf with golden braids in that jail cell was not his Fíli.

Kíli cried for half the night, and lay awake for the rest.

* * *

_***You can read about this encounter in my fic A Brother's Promise!  
**_

_**Um, until next time. I usually have things to say but I... don't? I'm probably forgetting something but oh well. Don't forget to check Mhyin's tumblr for fanart of this fic, and as always, all reviews are appreciated - especially when they're in-depth ;)**_


	6. Tears

_**A/N: Okay, so maybe once a week was a lie. I was hoping to get these chapters out faster than this, but somehow my life has gotten busier since I finished Race Against Time. Either that or I have gotten a lot worse at procrastinating. I'm sorry either way, and I will try to get these out faster for you guys.  
**_

* * *

Morning came with a still, disquieting silence – one that had Kíli's nerves on edge. He had given up on sleep sometime in the night; without Fíli there, he had been restless – not to mention that he felt achy and stuffed up after crying for so long.

_Pathetic._

Ill words danced in Kíli's head, mocking him and laughing at his misery. _Pathetic. Sniveling._ Words that never should have left Fíli's lips. Words that Kíli had never thought _would_ leave Fíli's lips. His brother had always said that he was strong, that his ability to let insults roll off his back was something to be envied. Fíli took what people said more to heart and dwelt on their words; he was more introspective that way. Often it took Kíli's cheerful demeanor to bring him around.

When the insults came from Fíli, though, Kíli's defenses were gone.

Did Fíli really think of him that way? Or was it just whatever was affecting his mind talking? Fear and doubt gnawed at his insides, and great turmoil began to churn inside him. His first instinct was to go to Fíli – but he couldn't. Not this time. A lump developed in his throat, but he took a deep breath to stay himself. _No,_ he thought. _I am_ not _pathetic._

The sound of the front door opening pulled Kíli from his thoughts. He looked up from his seat on the couch, waiting for Thorin to pass by the doorway. He could hear his uncle sigh and then remove his boots; then his purposeful footsteps began to move closer. As he appeared in the doorway, Kíli called out:

"Uncle?"

Kíli cringed at the sound of his own voice. It sounded small - childish. If Thorin noticed, however, he made no indication. He merely stepped into the room, looking upon his youngest nephew with sad, tired eyes.

"You haven't slept, have you?" the old dwarf said.

"Neither have you."

A halfhearted grin appeared on Thorin's lips as he bowed his head in concession to this fact. Kíli drew the blanket in which he had wrapped himself tighter around his body.

"He hasn't changed," Thorin said in answer to Kíli's unspoken question. "He says he remembers nothing. All he seems to know about himself is his name."

Kíli blinked wearily. He was too tired to react.

"It's not true, you know."

Kíli furrowed his brow. "What isn't true?" he said.

"What Fíli said to you," said Thorin.

Kíli sucked in a sharp breath and quickly looked down as tears suddenly filled his eyes. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut; twin teardrops fell into his lap. How had Thorin known? He tried to withhold further tears, but he was too exhausted to have such fortitude. _Pathetic._

Thorin's large, calloused hands came to rest on either side of Kíli's face; his forehead made contact with his nephew's. Kíli sniffled, and two more tears dripped from his face.

"Do you remember what I told you when you had pneumonia?" Thorin said. Kíli nodded. _You are strong,_ he had said. _Stronger than I even thought. You are _so_ strong._

"That still holds true today," he continued. "Do not take what your brother says to heart. He is not in his right mind."

Kíli made a soft sound in agreement and sniffed again. Thorin patted his face gently and remained still for another minute in silence, allowing Kíli to draw comfort from the contact in his own time. Finally, Kíli pulled back with a shuddering sigh and met Thorin's eyes.

"All right?" said Thorin.

"Yeah," Kíli said. Thorin smiled sadly and let go; he stood up and took a step back.

"I'm going to sleep," he said. "Dwalin is with Fíli; they will be fine. Get some sleep."

"I'll try," Kíli said, even though he knew he wouldn't. His eyes followed his uncle until he rounded the corner to the hall, and then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_You are strong,_ he told himself. _Not pathetic._

He longed for his brother, but Fíli was gone. They had his body in captivity, surely, but his mind was missing – either buried deep or taken from him.

_But how?_ Kíli thought. Poison? A bump on the head? There were no signs of either. Fey magic?

Kíli's eyes snapped open as the last thought occurred to him. Hadn't he felt like something had been watching him in that cave? There had been no sign of a fight or any kind of struggle at all. Why hadn't this occurred to him before?

But how did one go about reversing fey magic? Kíli racked his brain for any knowledge he might have acquired over the years from his books or his elders, but nothing came to mind. In all the stories he had read and all the tales he had heard, the fey had a mind of their own and listened to no one – not Man, Elf, or Dwarf. His stomach turned. And he had thought a pixie would grant him wishes… _Stupid_, he scolded himself. All it had done was push him into the creek and almost kill him.

But maybe – just maybe – he had not heard all there was about the fey. Perhaps there were stories he had forgotten, or even stories he had not heard.

_Wait,_ he told himself. He couldn't get carried away. First, he needed more evidence that it was fey mischief, and not something more common. That meant talking to Fíli, and he was not sure he was ready for that yet. The image of his brother's face, contorted into a hateful snarl, popped up in his mind; he shook his head violently to erase it from his thoughts, but he only succeeded in making himself dizzy as his stuffed nose and his flooded sinuses sloshed. With a groan, he rested his temple on the arm of the couch and pulled his blanket over his head.

_This is so wrong._

He was so tired. He yawned into the couch, and his eyes watered; he needed sleep so badly, but without the familiar comfort of his brother's presence, it was hard. He resigned himself to simply laying still with his eyes closed. It was the closest he was going to get.

Minutes passed in silence, and Kíli's frustration was building by the moment. He moaned and slid down off the arm of the couch, curling onto his side with his forehead pressed into the back and the blanket covering his entire person. He could hear his mother in the kitchen, but he tried to tune out the sound.

Several more minutes passed, and still Kíli could not sleep. He was just thinking of getting up and continuing through the day exhausted when he heard Dís's footsteps coming closer; so he lay still and pretended he had finally dozed off.

Her footsteps stopped next to the couch.

"Kíli?"

He didn't want to talk. He stayed still and quiet. Dís sighed, and Kíli heard the _thunk _of something on the side table.

"I know you're awake, love," she said softly; Kíli did not answer. After a few moments, she sighed again, and her footsteps faded from the room.

When he was sure that she was gone, Kíli lifted his head and sat up, curious to see what she had left him. As he peered over the arm, a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. A cup of tea sat invitingly, waiting for him.

Kíli reached out and took the cup, and then retreated back into his blanket cocoon. She had always made her boys tea when they were upset, and both Fíli and Kíli had learned to associate the taste with motherly comfort. He took a sip and relaxed, allowing the nostalgic feeling to wash over him and wipe away the fears and doubts that plagued him.

Had he been listening, he might have heard his mother's giggle from the doorway.

* * *

Though he tried, Kíli still could not fall asleep. Thoughts swirled through his mind like a whirlwind, and he could not stay them. The frustration was enough to drive him nearly mad; even without the stress of the past few days, he felt like he would have been close to tears. Finally, he gave up and sauntered into the kitchen with his blanket still wrapped around him. His mother was nowhere in sight. He sat at the table and dropped his face into his arms.

_Please sleep… come._

A soft _click_ drew Kíli's attention to his bedroom door. He looked up to see Dís emerging with a bundle in her arms.

"What's that?" he said, his voice scratchy with exhaustion.

"Things for your brother," said Dís without looking up. "Just because he is in prison doesn't mean we have to treat him like a prisoner." She sniffed indignantly and folded a falling blanket corner back into her arms.

Kíli sat up straight. "Are you going to see him now?" he said.

"Yes," said Dís. "I imagine you'll want to—oh, darling, what's the matter?"

Dís had finally looked up, and judging from her reaction, Kíli looked at least as terrible as he felt. He ducked his head sheepishly; he could try to downplay how tired he was, but his mother would see right through it. He might as well be honest.

"I didn't get any sleep last night," he said.

"Is that why you were wrapped up on the couch?"

"I couldn't stay in bed," he said. "I couldn't sleep. I tried, but…" He shrugged. "I just couldn't."

"Without Fíli there?" said Dís softly.

Kíli turned and looked down at his hands, and his hair fell in a curtain over his face. He nodded ever so slightly, his cheeks burning. Sixty-two years old, and he still couldn't sleep without his big brother beside him. He never had been able to – there was something solid and steadfast in Fíli that calmed and reassured him, and without that presence, he felt uneasy and alone. Even sleeping beside him when he had been caught in the throes of nightmares had been easier than this.

Dís's hand suddenly touched his cheek, and he started; she turned his face to hers and pushed his hair behind his ears. Her deep blue eyes studied him intently.

"You and Fíli have a special bond, Kíli," she said. "Do not be ashamed of it."

"But he doesn't remember me," Kíli said. He swallowed, trying to force down the lump building in his throat. "He tried to _kill_ me, Mum. He said he wanted to – to—"

His voice broke as he burst into tears and dropped his head onto her shoulder; she wrapped her arms around him and held him as he cried.

"Shhh, my love," she said. "It will be all right."

Kíli tried to answer _You don't know that_, but all that came out was a hoarse sob. His mother's arms tightened around him.

"If you were smaller, I'd pull you right into my lap and hold you until the world's ending," Dís whispered.

"I'm not a child," Kíli choked out.

"You will always be my child," she said firmly. "For ever and ever."

Kíli huffed as a smile formed on his lips, and he pulled back and looked into his mother's eyes. She smiled wistfully and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"You have your father's eyes," she said. Her voice sounded far away and sad; Kíli could see the painful memories playing in the cerulean depths. After a few moments, her gaze returned to the present, and she kissed her son's forehead.

"Come," she said. "I am sure you want to see your brother. We can go together."

Kíli was not sure he _wanted_ to see Fíli – not in the state he was in. But he knew that he _needed_ to. He needed answers; he would get his brother back, no matter what the cost.

* * *

"He's asleep," Dwalin said quietly to Dís.

Dís glanced at her eldest son, who lay face down on the pallet in his cell, blond hair splayed in every direction. He was breathing slowly and steadily, but Dís narrowed her eyes.

"Are you sure?" she said.

"I think so," Dwalin replied. "Thorin says he was up all night."

Kíli wondered if Fíli had stayed awake for the same reason he had, even though he could not remember. He wanted to ask, but he stopped himself. Dwalin would not know the answer anyway.

"What has he been doing?" Kíli asked. "Has he been asleep since you arrived?"

Dwalin shook his head. As he turned to look at Fíli, his normally hard expression softened.

"He sat and glared at me for a while, but then he got tired of it and laid down." Dwalin turned sad eyes to Dís and Kíli. "He was crying for a bit, poor lad. I don't think that he thought I could hear him."

Kíli stared at his brother, his heart aching. Fíli was _scared_. He had seen it when he had pushed him too far trying to remember, and now this. He wished that he could somehow fix everything, but he did not know how. Fíli was lost, so lost, and Kíli wanted him back.

"I've brought him some things," Dís said, holding up the bundle in her arms. "May I go in?"

"I would advise against it, milady," said Dwalin. "He's dangerous."

"He is my _son_, and he is not a criminal," Dís snapped. "He deserves to have some comfort if he is to be kept in this horrid place."

Dwalin nodded, his visage apologetic. "Of course," he said, and with that, he pulled out the keys and unlocked the cell door. Dís took a deep breath and stepped in with her bundle.

"Go in with her, laddie," said Dwalin. "Just in case."

Kíli cringed at those words, but he followed her in, watching Fíli carefully. As far as he could tell, Fíli was actually asleep; as he got closer, he could hear how congested his breathing was, and his heart sank. He _had_ been crying. Fíli rarely cried.

He knelt beside Dís on the dirt floor by Fíli's head and watched his brother's sleeping frame. His heart was aching again – it was almost a constant feeling now. He had never been without his brother like this, and he did not know how to live without him. It was uncomfortable and even painful.

"Lift his head," said Dís, her voice low. Kíli looked up at her; she held a pillow in her hands, and she was gazing down at her eldest sadly. Kíli did as he was told gingerly, though he knew Fíli would not wake up. When he slept, he was dead to the world. Dís slipped the pillow under his head, and Kíli let his head down gently. He brushed the hair off Fíli's face, pulling at the bits that stuck to his tear-stained cheeks as Dís laid a blanket over him.

Kíli opened his mouth to speak, but then he bit the words back. A lump was already developing in his throat again. _I want him back._ He looked up at his mother, who looked back at him with shining eyes, then down at Fíli. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"I love you," she whispered. Kíli looked away and swallowed. He wished Fíli would wake up and be his old self again – self-possessed and confident, not this angry, frightened dwarf with no memory. He hated that they had to tiptoe around him and keep him locked up. This wasn't _Fíli_.

"Come, Kíli," Dís said softly. Kíli stood up and held out his hand for his mother. She took it and he pulled her back to her feet, and she dusted the dirt off her knees. They left the cell together, and Dwalin locked up after them.

"Are you going to stay?" Dís said to Kíli.

"Aren't you?" Kíli replied.

Dís shook her head. "It's… it's too hard." She swallowed. "I'll come back later and make sure he is comfortable. Bring him some food."

Kíli nodded. "I need to ask him some questions when he wakes," he said. "I'm going to try to get to the bottom of this."

Dís pursed her lips and studied Kíli for a moment before she spoke.

"Very well," she said. "Just… don't push him. Remember that he is afraid. He doesn't know who we are." She paused and took a in a breath. "He doesn't know who _he_ is. Promise me you'll remember."

"I'll do my best, Mum," he said.

Dís smiled sadly and left the building; Kíli leaned up against the wall, his shoulders sagging.

"Are ye all right, Kíli?" Dwalin said.

"Just tired," Kíli replied. "I didn't sleep well. Or, I didn't sleep at all."

"Why don't ye just go home?" said Dwalin. "Fíli will be fine here."

"No," said Kíli adamantly. "I need to talk to him."

Dwalin looked him over sharply, and then he gestured at the chair by the cell.

"Sit, then," he said. "I'll stand."

Kíli could not hide his relief as he strode over to the chair and sat down, groaning.

"Thank you, Mister Dwalin," he said.

The old warrior merely grunted, and the two fell into silence, waiting. When Fíli awoke, Kíli would get whatever answers he could. He would fix this. He had to.

* * *

_**I planned on more happening in this chapter, but it felt complete here, and I wanted to publish this tonight because I am not sure how much time I'll have in the coming week/week and a half to write, and I didn't want to leave it hanging for 2 1/2 weeks like when I got my wisdom teeth out. MY LIFE IS SO BUSY. I will try to get out a chapter next week, but no guarantees. Thank you guys for being so patient with me - I love you!**_

_**Please review! *employs Kili's big beautiful brown eyes to encourage reviews***_


	7. Answers

_**A/N: Here I am! I'm not dead! I was just busy. Thank you all for being so patient with me as I struggle to get these out in a timely fashion. This chapter is a bit on the short side, but the future of this fic is planned, and the end of this chapter was a good place to stop. Man is it exciting! (Or horrifying, depending on how you view it!) I hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

At first, Kíli did not notice that Fíli had awoken, tired as he was. When he finally caught sight of the dark eyes looking up at him from behind the iron bars, he started. A mirthless grin played on Fíli's lips.

"You're awake," Kíli said, regaining his composure quickly.

Fíli did not respond. He merely glared.

Kíli straightened and looked towards Dwalin, who was leaning against the wall, cleaning his fingernails with a small knife. The old warrior said nothing, merely meeting the brunet's eyes for a moment before returning to his nails. Kíli took a deep breath. Now was his chance - but would Fíli speak? If he did, would he tell him the truth?

"I need to ask you some questions," he said, forcing the waver out of his voice.

A glimmer of panic shone in Fíli's features before a stone mask closed over them. He sat up straight, fixing his unnaturally dark eyes on his brother's face. A slight quiver passed through his bottom lip before he bit it.

"I won't answer," he said.

"I'll keep asking until you do," Kíli shot back. "You may not remember me, but I know who you are, Fee - Fíli - I know who you really are. And I will have my brother back, with your help or without."

Fíli scoffed and looked down; a messy, half-undone braid fell over his face. Kíli's fingers twitched - he wanted to fix that braid, to make Fíli look more like _Fíli_. He leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together.

"What do you remember?" he said.

Fíli's head snapped up, a fierce scowl on his face.

"I already _told_ you,"he snapped.

"Yes, yes - you told me everything I was _there_ for," Kíli said with a wave of his hand. "But what else? What about _before_ you awoke? You must remember _something_."

Fíli squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "There's nothing there."

Kíli would not be fooled. He knew his brother, though his brother did not know him, and he could tell when he was lying - and he was lying now.

"Tell me the truth," he pressed.

"I _am_ telling you the truth," said Fíli through gritted teeth.

"When you were unconscious, you were screaming. Do you remember why?"

"Stop," Fíli growled.

"You _do_, don't you?" Kíli said eagerly, though his heart was thumping. Part of his mind was telling him to stop, but the other part was pushing him onward, desperate to get any information at all. "Why, Fíli? Why were you screaming?"

Fíli shook his head violently. "Don't," he said, his voice cracking. "Stop it. Just stop it."

"Laddie, perhaps you should let him alone," said Dwalin, though he did not move from his spot.

"No!" Kíli said, though in truth, he wanted to. He was hurting his brother, and he knew it. But - "I have to know! I have to find a way to bring him back!"

Dwalin was silent, and Kíli turned back to his brother.

"I am trying to _help_ you," he said. "Just tell me."

"You're not helping," Fíli growled. "Leave me alone, or I swear I will kill you the first chance I get."

Kíli pushed away the deep stab of hurt those words brought and pressed further. "What did this to you?" he said.

"I'll wrap my hands around that neck and choke the life out of you!" Fíli shouted. Kíli could see his hands shaking.

"_What do you remember?_"

"I'll gouge out your eyes and cut out your tongue!"

"_Tell me!_"

"You'll beg for death before I'm through with you!"

"I'm not going to stop, Fíli, until you _tell me_!" Kíli shouted, standing to his feet.

Without warning, Fíli threw himself to the ground and buried his face in the pillow Dís had brought him. He let out a long, hoarse scream that shook Kíli to the very core of his being. Dwalin pushed off the wall and stepped forward; Kíli met his eyes, wherein he saw the same fear and confusion that coursed through his own heart. They looked back to their kin, who had curled into a tight ball, his arms over his head and his body shaking with sobs. Kíli stepped hesitantly towards the cell and grabbed the iron bars.

"Fíli?"

"It was d-darkness and despair and a-anger and laughter," Fíli sobbed. "Hollow eyes and sharp teeth and d-dead flesh. It wouldn't let me go - it laughed and laughed and I screamed and begged but it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't _stop_!"

The last phrase came out in a shriek as Fíli curled tighter into himself, shaking uncontrollably. Pitiful sobs left his lips as he began to whimper.

"Make it stop, make it stop, _make it stop_, no, _no_, _please..._"

The repetition continued, and Kíli swallowed, unsure of what to do. He looked back again to Dwalin, but he was gone. He took a deep breath and sank to his knees, pressing into the bars that stood between him and his brother. He called out softly, but Fíli merely moaned and scooted himself into the corner of the cell, hiding his face and continuing to whisper to no one.

"Stop, _stop_, _please_, please no, _no_..."

Kíli could do nothing but watch. Dwalin had taken the keys with him, wherever he had gone, and even if he hadn't Kíli was sure that his comfort would not be welcomed.

_What have I done?_

He sat in silence, regret coursing painfully through him as Fíli was lost to reality. He had done this. Once again, he had pushed too hard, and Fíli had snapped. Would he never learn? This new Fíli was fragile and frightening and full of fear and anger, so unlike the brother he knew.

Minutes later, Dwalin returned with Óin in tow. Kíli looked up at his two elders wearily.

"Help him," he said.

Óin stepped closer to the cell and stared at Fíli for a few moments, his lips pressed together and his eyes filled with compassion. Then, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bottle filled with a greenish-yellow substance.

"Let me in," he said softly. Dwalin stepped forward and unlocked the door; Óin stepped in quietly and knelt at Fíli's side. Fíli did not notice him at first, his head tucked into his arms and his babbling covering the sounds of Óin approaching. When the older dwarf touched his shoulder, he jumped and backed further into the corner, peeking through his arms at his attacker. Óin held out the bottle in his hand; Fíli stared at him apprehensively.

"This will make it stop," Óin said.

Fíli slowly let down his arms, but made no further move towards his cousin. His fingers twitched.

"It'll stop?" he said, his voice high and childish. The former animosity seemed to be completely gone, replaced by a desperate fear of whatever was in his mind from which he was so desperate to escape. Óin nodded and uncorked the bottle, the _pop_ making Fíli flinch. He held it out again, and Fíli reached out with trembling hands and took it. He gulped it down quickly, and Óin rose and stepped back out of the cell. Kíli made to get up and go in, but Dwalin put out an arm and stopped him.

"Let him be, laddie," Dwalin said. He locked the door, and Kíli watched his brother's trembling slowly cease and his whimpered pleas quieten as the medicine took hold.

"What did you give him?" Kíli said to Óin.

"Just something to calm him," said the old apothecary. "It settles the mind and slows thought. He should be sluggish for a few hours, but he'll be relaxed."

Kíli turned to Óin and nodded. "Thank you," he said.

Óin smiled sadly and nodded in return. Kíli pulled himself up on the bars watching as Fíli curled up on his pallet and hugged his pillow tightly. One cold blue eye was watching them, the other hidden from view. Kíli ground his teeth.

"I'll be back later," he said. "Mister Dwalin, do you need someone to take your place?"

"I'll stay a while longer," Dwalin said. "Send for someone in a couple hours."

"All right," Kíli said. With that, he dashed outside; however, he did not make it far. As soon as he was out of sigh - as soon as he felt the warm outside air on his skin - he stumbled aside and slammed into the wall, covering his eyes with one hand and letting out a sudden sob. His other hand joined the first, and he sank to the ground as he began to weep.

"I'm sorry," he whispered between sobs. "I'm so sorry, Fíli."

* * *

_Knock knock._

The door before Kíli swung open after a few moments, and the dwarf on the other side grinned widely upon seeing his young friend, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Bofur," Kíli said, unable to return the smile.

The light faded from Bofur's face as he regarded the look on Kíli's face, and he furrowed his brow.

"Come in, lad," he said seriously. Kíli nodded and stepped inside, his mouth watering instantly at the smell of Bombur's cooking, and he sank into a chair at the kitchen table. He rested his head in his hands, overcome with weariness, and closed his eyes for a moment - or what he thought was a moment - until a hand latched onto his shoulder and shook him hard.

"Kíli, lad, when is the last time you slept?" said Bofur.

Kíli blinked slowly and looked up at his fair-tempered friend, whose visage was unnaturally creased with worry. He offered a half-hearted smile.

"Couldn't sleep last night," he said. "I'm all right."

Bofur raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment. Instead, he made his way over to the stove and poured a cup of coffee, then set it before Kíli.

"Bombur just made it," he said. "Looks like you need it more than I do."

"Thanks," Kíli said. He took a gulp and sighed, enjoying the strong taste characteristic of anything made by Bombur's hands. He looked around. "Where is he, anyway?"

Bofur chuckled. "The pantry, most likely."

Kíli let out a huff of a laugh at that. The pantry, indeed. Where else would he be? Bofur sat down at the table and studied Kíli's face.

"What's wrong, lad?"

Kíli traced the rim of his mug with his middle finger in silence. He had come to Bofur for help, but now that he was here, he didn't know how to start, or how to get the information he sought without alluding to Fíli's situation. Bofur was a friend, but he was not kin, nor any kind of ranking official.

"This is about Fíli, isn't it?"

Kíli's head snapped up, his eyes wide, before he could plan a less telling reaction.

"What?" he croaked.

"I saw them carry him in to the jail," Bofur said gently.

Kíli's eyes grew even wider, and his heart began to thump harder. Bofur had seen? Who else had witnessed Fíli's compromised state? Was their secret out?

"Relax, Kíli," Bofur said. "I haven't told anyone."

"Bombur?" Kíli said as the large, red-haired dwarf entered the kitchen, munching.

"Aye, he was with me," Bofur said. "But-"

"Please, Bofur - you have to keep this a secret," Kíli pleaded. "And you, Bombur."

"We wouldn't tell a soul, lad," said Bofur. "We may not be kin - but we are loyal to your uncle and to your family. Thorin has made a good life for us here. We would not cross him."

Kíli relaxed and leaned back in his seat. Of course Bofur and Bombur wouldn't tell. They were old friends, and good dwarves.

"But - Kíli. Tell us what's happened," Bofur said. Bombur sat beside him, silent as usual as he ate, his eyes lit with compassion and curiosity.

Kíli, reasoning that more information couldn't hurt at this point, launched into the full story, from his near-drowning to the conversation with his brother from which he had just come. Bofur and Bombur listened intently, their faces growing more and more distressed as Kíli spoke. When he had finished, he wiped away the stray tears from his cheeks and was silent, taking in a shuddering breath. After several long moments, Bofur spoke.

"Blimey, lad," he said.

"I came to you for help," Kíli said. "I know that some don't put stock in it, but... I think some kind of pixie or faerie or... something... has done this to my brother. You have both told me stories about the fey, and I wondered if you knew of any where a fey's mischief was reversed."

Bofur and Bombur exchanged glances; Bombur shrugged, and Bofur looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

"I don't think I've heard of any," he said finally. "But these pixies and such - they do things just for fun. Maybe you could just ask it to change him back. It might consider that a good laugh."

Kíli's lips twisted. It was not the answer that he wanted, but it was a reasonable suggestion. At least the two brothers had taken him seriously.

"I don't know where it is - or even what it is," he said. "Or - really, I don't even know if I'm right. But I have an idea that I can start with."

"It's worth a try," said Bombur. "I'd try anything for Bofur."

Bofur smiled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at his younger brother. Kíli felt a surge of jealousy as Bofur patted Bombur's shoulder affectionately, and he became keenly aware once again of the ache in his heart. If Bombur, bumbling as he was, would fight for his brother, Kíli would fight all the more. He would do anything to get Fíli back.

"Promise me one thing, though, lad," said Bofur, suddenly serious again.

Kíli met his gaze. "What's that?" he said.

"If you go off anywhere to face fickle creatures, don't go alone," Bofur said. "Take someone with you. It would be no good to lose both our princes."

"I won't," Kíli promised. "And I'll be careful."

Bofur grinned at that. "As careful as a son of Dís ever would be, eh?"

Kíli chuckled sheepishly, taking the jab with grace. He was used to such teasing, especially from Bofur, but he knew that beneath the joke, his friend was deadly serious. He would heed his advice.

"Thank you," Kíli said, rising to his feet. "Thank you both."

"Where are you going already?" Bofur said, dismayed. "Stay a while! You need rest!"

"And food," Bombur added.

"I've got to save Fíli," Kíli said. "Sooner rather than later."

"But you're exhausted!" Bofur protested. "Kíli, be sensible, lad."

"This is too important to wait," said Kíli. "I won't go alone. You have my word."

Bofur hurried around the small table and grabbed Kíli's wrist, his eyes pleading.

"Kíli. You _need_ rest."

Kíli looked down at Bofur's hand, irritation itching in his abdomen; the elder dwarf let go, and Kíli straightened and looked him straight in the eye.

"I'll rest when I have Fíli back," he said. Then he turned and left the small house, ignoring the stricken faces of his friends.

* * *

_**As always, please review! I love hearing your reactions and especially your theories! Since it worked so well last time... *employs Kíli's sparkling brown eyes to beg for reviews***_


	8. Fear

_**A/N: This chapter is pretty intense. You might want to brace yourself.**_

* * *

"No."

"Yes."

"You're not going."

"Yes, I am."

Dís looked hard at her youngest, her arms crossed and a fierce scowl on her face. Kíli stared back, his form rigid, save for his flexing fingers. Suddenly, the hard look on Dís's face softened, and she stepped forward; Kíli took a step back.

"Kíli..." she said. "You are exhausted. You need to _rest_, not run off on some wild goose chase."

Kíli spluttered for a few moments, shocked. "Wild goose chase?" he said. "This isn't a wild goose chase, Mum! There could very well be clues to what happened to Fíli in that cave! I _have_ to go!"

"And I'm telling you that you have to _stay_," said Dís adamantly. "You didn't sleep at all last night. You didn't sleep well the night before - don't deny it - and I'm not going to lose you to foolishness. _Please_ rest, darling."

As Dís spoke, she stepped closer and closer to Kíli until he was backed into the wall. SHe reached out to take his bow off his back, but he twisted out of her reach.

"No!" he shouted. He stepped away from his mother, but his left foot caught on his right, and he stumbled; Dís caught him by the shoulders and held him upright, her mouth set in a grim line.

"You aren't going anywhere but to bed," she said firmly. "Now, take off those weapons and that gear."

"You don't understand!" Kíli burst out. He ripped himself away from Dís and stumbled back into the wall, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent tears from welling up. "I can't sleep! I_ can't_! I have to _do_ something, Mum! I can't live like this!"

Dís studied her son's eyes closely, a curious expression upon her face.

"Mahal forbid you two are ever separated for good," she said quietly. "He'll have to take you together, or not at all."

Kíli smiled despite himself. "Not at all, then," he said.

Dís returned the smile. "That's what I like to hear," she said. She reached forward and tucked his hair behind his ear; the movement was soothing, and Kíli closed his eyes. Then, quicker than Kíli could have ever expected, Dís had pulled off his sword, bow, and quiver.

"Hey!" he said angrily. He reached for his weapons, but Dís pulled back.

"See?" she said. "You're so tired, I pulled all of these off before you could react."

"You're just fast," Kíli protested, reaching for his weapons again.

"Go rest," Dís commanded, her voice suddenly hard.

"Mum-"

"_Go!_"

Kíli glared at his mother for a few moments, heat rising into his face as he clenched his fists. He was angry. _Irrationally_ angry. He knew that, but he could not stop the rage that made his hands tremble and a whirlwind rush through his ears. His insides wound tighter as he fought the want - the _need_ - to shout, to run, to get his own way. Dís watched him warily.

"Kíli?" she said, setting his weapons down on the table and stepping towards him.

"Don't," he said with forced calmness. "Don't... just... leave me alone." He muttered the last few words quickly as he stalked off to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He threw himself onto the bed and glared up at the ceiling, fuming; suddenly, the overwhelming desire to scream came upon him, and he clenched his teeth, fighting the impulse.

It was too much. Rolling over, Kíli grabbed a pillow and stuffed his face into it. He let out a long, angry scream as tears filled his eyes, and the scream turned into a wail and then he was sobbing, weeping, his tears staining the pillow and his shoulders shaking. _Overtired_, said the logical part of his mind, but its cold analysis was overridden by the burning fire that coursed through his veins saying _I need Fíli back, no one understands, I need my brother, I miss my Fíli._

"Fee," he whispered into the wet pillow, his fingers curling into the fabric. He took a ragged breath. For a few moments, he was quiet, but then the sobbing started again. He felt _so_ alone. Fíli had always been there for him, through every trouble and trial - but now he was lost to him, and he had scarcely an idea on how to bring him back, if he could at all. Hopelessness settled in his heart then, and he screamed into the pillow, curling his knees up underneath him as he held it tightly. Then he was still, gasping harshly with his forehead pressed into the mattress. He dropped onto his side and hugged the pillow to himself, shaking with now-silent sobs.

A _creak_ told Kíli that he was not alone, but he did not look to see who was intruding on his misery. He did not care. He couldn't speak, anyway; despite his efforts, he could not stop crying. So he ignored whoever it was, hoping they would go away.

"Kíli," said a familiar deep voice. _Thorin._ Kíli curled up tighter, a harsh gasp leaving his throat. Let Thorin talk. Nothing he could say would change anything.

There was silence for a long time, so long that Kíli almost forgot that his uncle was there at all. Then, he spoke again:

"Your mother sent me in. She heard you screaming, she said."

Still Kíli gave no reply.

"Are you all right?"

Kíli shook his head and took a hitched breath. Thorin was silent, but Kíli could hear him step closer.

"Is there anything you need?" said Thorin in a strained voice.

"Fíli," Kíli choked out.

Thorin sighed. "Kíli, I promised you that we will figure this out. We _will_ fix this."

Kíli nodded, and Thorin's hand settled on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

"Now rest. We will form a plan after you have slept. You have my word."

_That's not good enough,_ Kíli thought, but he stayed silent. Thorin's hand lifted, and his heavy steps left the room.

He was _so_ tired. Maybe everyone was right. He did need to rest - but how? He had tried to sleep the previous night to no avail, and nothing had changed. He was still troubled and alone.

Kíli tossed aside his damp pillow and reached across the bed for one of his brother's. He stuffed his face into it; the smell of pipe-weed and soap filled his nostrils. _Fíli._ He still felt alone, but somehow with this familiar smell, the pressing loneliness seemed to lessen, if only a little bit.

And finally, _finally_, Kíli fell asleep.

* * *

Rest for Kíli did not last for long.

The first thing Kíli noticed when he awoke was that he felt even worse than he had before. His body felt stiff and his head was heavy; his eyes fought to stay closed, but no relief was found beneath his eyelids. He was awake, then - rested or not.

_Time to do something._

Kíli lifted his head and immediately dropped it back onto the mattress with a groan. _Mahal, what a headache._ He pressed his temple into his forearm and grimaced. _Get up,_ he told himself, but his body would not obey. He stayed sprawled on the bed.

He felt sick to his stomach. Was he hungry or nauseous? He couldn't tell. But if this was what sleep did for him, he would rather be up, exhausted or not. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up with a strained groan, bringing one hand up to his forehead. He stayed there for a couple of minutes, hoping the headache would subside, but it stubbornly remained; so he got up and left his room.

No one was in the kitchen, but his weapons were still on the table. He looked around cautiously before tip-toeing over to his gear and strapping it on as quickly and quietly as he could. Then he slipped out the door, looking left and right - no one in sight. He took off in a run for Glóin's house. He had to go, and he had to go _now_, and he knew that Gimli would go with him.

Within a few minutes, he had reached his destination, and to his delight, Gimli was already outside. He ran over to him and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Gimli!" he said, breathing heavily. "I need your help."

"Blimey, Kíli, you look terrible," said Gimli, eyeing his cousin with wide eyes.

"I'll be fine," said Kíli dismissively. "Are you busy?"

"No," Gimli replied. "What do you need?"

"We're going back up to the cave," Kíli said. "I'm going to see if I can find what did this to Fíli."

"What makes you think it is there?" said Gimli skeptically.

"It's where we found him," said Kíli pointedly. "Moreover, when I was in there, I could feel something... watching me. You couldn't feel it?"

Gimli thought for a moment. "I did, come to think of it," he said. "It made my hair stand up on end."

"Exactly," Kíli said. "Get your pony. It's a long ride."

"What about yours?" Gimli said.

Kíli straightened and blinked. His pony. How had he forgotten to bring his pony?

"Are you sure you're all right?" said his cousin warily.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Kíli said absently. "Stay here. I'll be back soon."

GImli gave him a funny look, but he nodded, and Kíli ran off. He made it home in record time; to his relief, no one was out by the stable. _Where is everyone?_ Kíli thought briefly, but he dismissed the thought in favor of sneaking off before anyone tried to force him back into bed like a child. They _always_ treated him like a child. Kíli scowled as he saddled up Basil and took off to meet up with Gimli, who was ready when he arrived.

"I got food and water," Gimli said, nodding at his saddlebag.

Kíli looked at his cousin blankly. Food and water - _of course._ He was forgetting everything!

"Right. Good," he said. "Yes. All right, let's go, then."

"Kíli, are you sure?" said Gimli, looking his cousin over with a furrowed brow.

"I'm _fine_!" Kíli snapped. "Let's _go_."

Gimli sighed, but he said no more, and the two young dwarves took off.

* * *

"Do you remember where it was?"

"You found it first, Kíli."

"I could have _sworn_ it was around here..."

Kíli turned his pony around and scanned his surroundings. Surely he could not have lost an entire cave. He was tired, but he wasn't _that_ tired. It had to be _somewhere_.

"How long did it take us to get home?" Kíli said.

"I don't know," said Gimli. "A couple of hours, I think."

"I thought this was the spot," Kíli mused. He turned back towards the north. "Maybe it's further up."

"There was a stream flowing out of it," Gimli said.

"Have you seen a stream yet?"

"No."

"Let's keep riding then."

The two moved on silently, each caught up in his own thoughts. Several more minutes brought no results, and Kíli's gut began to burn with frustration.

"It _has_ to be around here somewhere!" Kíli said. His head was pounding steadily, further fouling his mood. He pulled out his waterskin and drank, hoping for a respite from the ache, but none came. He cursed.

"We could split up," Gimli suggested. "We might find it faster."

"Good idea," Kíli said. "I'll go further up. You keep checking around here."

Without waiting for a reply, Kíli kicked Basil into a gallop and was soon far away, a faint _Wait!_ trailing behind him.

He was definitely feeling the exhaustion now, but a dogged determination kept him going. Everyone else seemed slow and unconcerned about his brother's condition. _Go rest. We'll make a plan._ Kíli scowled. There wasn't _time_ for such things. _Action_ was required - and if he was the only one willing to do so, then so be it.

Kíli stopped and looked behind; Gimli was just visible, a small dot far away. Then he looked ahead. Surely the cave had to be close. He squinted and scanned the surrounding area. The sun was setting in the west, casting long shadows from the mountains, and already it seemed quite dark. His mother and his uncle would kill him, but he had yet to care about that.

Then he saw it.

Further on ahead, a small stream was flowing out of a cave that looked horribly familiar. _Ah, yes._ Now that he saw it, the memory came flooding back, bringing with it a shiver as he thought of his brother inside, cold and unconscious on the stone floor. He turned and waved at Gimli, who had moved a little bit closer.

"Gimli!" he shouted. "I've found it! Hurry!"

When his cousin started heading his direction, he turned back and pushed Basil onwards, reaching the cave in less than a minute. He hopped off his pony and patted her neck reassuringly, for she was shying away from the entrance nervously.

"Steady, girl," he said. "It's all right."

Basil tossed her head in response; Kíli could feel how tense she was. If he were honest with himself, he was tense, too; the sick feeling he had felt last time he was here had returned, and he recognized it as a deep sense of foreboding. There were many dark and foul things in the world, and he imagined that many would make Dwarf, Man, or Elf feel such a thing.

He looked back to Gimli impatiently. The younger dwarf was on his way, but he was moving too slowly for Kíli's taste. He would catch up soon enough. Kíli patted Basil again and then unsheathed his sword, holding it at the ready. He was going in now, accompanied or not.

The moment he stepped into the cave, his hair stood on end and his heart inexplicably began to pound. He swallowed and tightened his grip on his sword. He could feel those eyes on him.

"Hello?" he called out, wincing at the small sound of his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Is anyone there?"

A sound surrounded him then - a raspy, hissing noise that seemed to come from every direction at once. He gasped and whirled around, but he saw nothing; it was too dark. _A torch._ Kíli cursed his absent-mindedness. Why hadn't he thought to bring a torch?

"Who are you?" he called out, failing miserably at keeping the quiver out of his voice.

"First a yellow one, and now a dark one," said a thin, raspy voice from nowhere. "Have you come to light a little fire, too?"

"I've come looking for you, actually," he said. A warm fire was beginning to flow through him - courage, but also anger. The thing was laughing -_ laughing!_ - at him, a hissing, gurgling sound, unpleasant to the ears.

"Do you think this is _funny_?" he shouted, swinging his sword as he whirled again. "My brother doesn't even remember who he is! What did you do to him?"

The voice was silent for a few moments. Then, it said: "Tell me, dark dwarf. What is a... brother?"

To his left, a movement caught Kíli's eye, and he turned to face it, sheathing his sword and pulling out his bow quick as lightning. He pointed his arrow at the movement, but he saw nothing.

"Show yourself!" Kíli said, his breath coming out in a gasp. _I should have waited for Gimli._

"I asked a question," said the voice, crackling dangerously.

"We... we come from the same mother and father," Kíli said, his voice thick with fear. "Like birds that come from the same nest."

"I see," said the voice. That hissing, gurgling sound again. "And what have you come to me for, dark dwarf?"

"Whatever you did to my brother - I want you to reverse it," he said. "Please. Just - change him back."

The laughter that followed was raucous and grating, and Kíli almost dropped his bow at the sound, grimacing.

"Change him _back_?" said the voice, "But, why, I did not _change_ him at all!"

"What did you do to him, then?" Kíli cried.

Something cold touched his back then, and he turned to face it; when he did, his breath stopped in his throat and his bow dropped from his hands. Before him stood a tall, writhing creature with black, hollow spaces in place of eyes; its teeth were grey and sharp, and of its skin Kíli could not guess the texture, whether it be rotting flesh or the substance of ashes. It shimmered in a dark way, its claws extended out towards its next victim.

"This," it said.

Cold, clawed fingers rested on either side of Kíli's face, and a terror greater than any he had ever known flooded through him like an icy river. The walls seemed to close in around him, shining with sickly colors and oozing with something - Kíli did not know what. A scream was ripped from his throat as his entire body began to shake violently and his knees gave out; he crashed to the ground, still screaming, he couldn't stop screaming. Horrible images flew through his head, each forgotten as the next took shape, but the terror remained. Whatever he had known or thought before disappeared in a veil before his eyes as all his senses were overwhelmed with a single sensation of _fear_, everything was horror and he could not escape, he was going to _die_ like this-

Somewhere far away, Kíli could hear a deep, guttural roar, and he screamed again, covering his ears and curling into a ball. The cold fingers left his face, but the cold inside him remained, and he cried out. A high, shrill shriek filtered into his senses, and he shrieked back. Then big, calloused hands were on him, pulled at him. He fought against them violently, but they had him tightly, and then he was moving, kicking and screaming though he was, until he lay against something warm and soft, though he could not see it. He was blind - _blind!_ He curled himself up as tightly as he could and hid his face in his arms, shuddering and weeping. A hand reached through his arms and touched his face.

"_No!_" he screamed, batting the hand away and rolling onto his other side. The hand came at him again, and he recoiled.

He suddenly became aware of a deep voice trying to speak to him - a familiar voice. He stopped, gasping wildly, and listened.

"...not going to hurt you! Kíli, stop screaming! It's me! It's Gimli!"

_Gimli._ He knew that name, but he couldn't place it. A fresh wave of terror went through him, and he shuddered and wailed.

"You fool, you_ fool_, you _damned fool_!" said the familiar voice. "You should have waited for me! You should have waited!"

Kíli hid beneath his arms and said nothing as panicked sobs he could not stop left him. What had he done? He could not remember.

"And now your pony has bolted," continued the voice. "You won't be able to walk, will you?"

Kíli's eyes opened wide, and he took in a sharp gasp. Walk to _where_? _From_ where? The realization struck him that he had no idea where he was or why he was there. He grabbed his hair and pulled, his mind racing as he struggled to latch onto any memory, _anything_, in the inky blackness of his mind.

_Gimli._ The voice was Gimli. He thought hard, searching for _Gimli_ in the abyss. Suddenly he caught it. HIs cousin - his friend. _Yes._ He blinked and swallowed, and the world cleared a bit around him. A young, red-haired dwarf knelt before him, his expression taut.

"G-Gimli?" he said.

"Yes," Gimli said. "It's me. Are you all right?'

Kíli shook his head. "Where are we?" he said.

A trepidatious look crossed Gimli's face. "You don't remember?"

Again, Kíli shook his head. A single bird chirped, and he jumped and covered his ears, gasping.

"We need to get you home," Gimli said. "You can ride my pony. I'll just have to walk." The young dwarf pulled up his older cousin and swung Kíli's arm over his shoulders. Kíli leaned into him with shaky legs and followed where he was led. Gimli helped him onto the pony clumsily, and then began to lead them south.

"W-where are we going?" asked Kíli behind chattering teeth.

"Home," Gimli said.

Kíli could not picture _home_, but he knew the word, and it was a comforting one. So he sad silent and trembling, darkness swirling through his mind as the sun set over the mountains.

* * *

_**The plot thickens! Send your love/hate to the review box! Go!**_


	9. Blank

**_A/N: If you got the update a couple days ago - no, this isn't another chapter. BUT WAIT KEEP READING. I posted this and I was afraid that somehow no one saw it because it got significantly fewer responses than usual. Sorry for the confusion. Yes, I'm an attention whore, and yes, you can judge me. _**

**_As an apology, at the end of the chapter in the author's notes, I have included a tiny new bit from Thorin's POV._**

**_Carry on._**

* * *

_Fear_ had never been so real.

As darkness fell over the Blue Mountains, the oppressive shadow over Kíli's mind grew closer and heavier. Every sudden movement was another monster lurking just out of sight; every sudden sound was like a clanging cymbal, making the terrified dwarf jump and cry out. There was no respite for Kíli – only a growing unsettling feeling and darkness where memories should have been.

Gimli tried to speak to him at first, but his voice was nothing more than a rushing wind in Kíli's ears, causing only further confusion and fear. After a while, he fell silent, leading his pony on gently as Kíli sat pale and shaking upon its back. It had already been dark for over an hour by the time Kíli and Gimli reached their village, and the place was lit by lanterns and yellow windows under the moonlight. Gimli patted Kíli's leg lightly, and Kíli jumped and yelped.

"Kíli – we're home," Gimli said softly. "Do you remember home?"

Kíli shook his head mutely, trembling. There were so many houses… so many _people_. His breath hitched in his throat.

"Can't," he whimpered.

"What was that, Kíli?" said Gimli.

"C-can't," Kíli repeated, a little louder.

"Can't what?" Gimli said, stopping the pony and looking up at his cousin with a furrowed brow.

"Th-there are too many – too many people," Kíli said. "Can't, I can't, I'm – I'm scared." He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, too afraid to even be ashamed. His teeth clattered in his head; already, he was on the verge of tears. He wished for some comfort, but in his blank memory, such a luxury had been lost. He was alone.

"Kíli—"

"Gimli! Kíli! Is that you?" called a deep, rough voice from the darkness. Kíli froze at the unfamiliar voice, petrified, but Gimli called back:

"Father? Thorin?"

Kíli, with his face hidden in his hands, could not see the strangers approach, but he heard them running closer. His heart pounded and his breath came in panicked gasps; Gimli laid a hand on his knee, and he moaned.

"What on _earth_ were you two thinking?" Thorin shouted. "Running off without a word, disappearing until after dark – We have been searching for you since dusk! I want an explanation, _now_!"

"Father, Thorin, wait—" Gimli began, but Thorin cut him short.

"I want to hear from Kíli," Thorin said. "You are in trouble with Glóin as it is, but I am sure that this was my nephew's idea. It always is."

"But—"

"Kíli! Look at me!" Thorin barked.

Kíli bowed lower and let out a sob. What was going on? What had he done?

"Kíli!" Thorin said again. A hand grasped Kíli's wrist, and he screamed, yanking his arm away and stumbling off the pony. He fell, landing on his rear, then scrambled to his feet and ran. Footsteps pursued him, and he sprinted, blinded by terror; then arms wrapped around him, locking his own arms to his sides and knocking him to the ground. He screamed again and fought against his attacker, struggling to get free to no avail. Within moments he was pinned.

"_No!_" he wailed, still blindly struggling. A hand covered his mouth, and he screamed into it.

"For Mahal's sake, Kíli!" said Thorin. "What in Durin's name is wrong with you?"

"He doesn't remember you!" Gimli shouted.

Thorin paused. "What do you mean?" he said.

"We went to the cave," Gimli said. "Where we found Fíli. The thing that got him – Fíli – it was still there. I tried to get Kíli to wait, but he went in without me, and – and I don't know, Thorin. He was screaming so much… I attacked the creature, but I was too late."

Thorin looked down at his nephew, who had fallen limp and hopeless under his grip, silent tears trailing down the sides of his face. Their eyes met briefly, and Kíli hiccupped tearfully. Thorin's deep blue eyes were wide.

"No," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Thorin – I'm so sorry," said Gimli. "I tried to rescue him, but it seems that the deed has been done."

Thorin bowed his head, but he kept a firm grip on his youngest nephew.

"Has he been violent?" he said thickly.

"Only as you've seen," Gimli said. "I don't think he is as badly affected. He recognized me after a while."

Thorin's eyes snapped back to his nephew's face, glittering with hope. "Kíli, do you know who I am?" he said.

"Please," Kíli whimpered. "Please, don't – please."

"Kíli," Thorin breathed, stricken. He studied Kili's face carefully, searching for any sign of recognition, but Kili merely stared back, breathing quickly and laboriously. When Kili's expression did not change, Thorin bowed his head and remained still and quiet for a long time; when he looked up again, his expression was hard.

"We have to get him home," he said. "Glóin, Gimli – help me get him back on the pony." He stood up, pulling Kíli up by his wrists. Kíli pulled back, a fresh wave of terror coursing through him.

"Where are you taking me?" he cried. "Please, I – I don't have anything you need, I don't know anything – no, please!"

Kíli cried out and fought against the three pairs of hands that tried to pull him back on the pony, twisting this way and that and slipping from their arms expertly. Gimli's pony shied away from the commotion, and after several attempts, the others gave up on their endeavor. Thorin held Kíli in a tight grip, his arms under his nephew's armpits and hands joined behind the dark head. Kíli wept, confused and terrified and breathing hard.

"Glóin – blindfold him," Thorin said.

Kíli started and wailed, but he could not escape Thorin's hard grip. Why were they blindfolding him? What were they going to do to him?

"Why?" said Gimli.

"Works on animals," said Glóin. "Calms them – makes them cooperative. Might work on Kíli, too." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and stepped closer to his cousin; the young dwarf tried to jerk his head away, but Thorin had him tight.

Kíli cried bewildered tears as Glóin tied the handkerchief over his eyes. He was stuck. He was caught. He was at their mercy. With this realization, he gave up completely and slumped, his weight only supported by Thorin's strong arms holding him up. Then he was lifted into the air and set back on the pony, and the small party of dwarves moved on.

Kíli cried the rest of the way home.

* * *

"Please – please—"

"Quiet."

Kíli let out a whimper, but otherwise was quiet as Thorin lifted him off the pony and set him on the ground. He stumbled, his balance thrown off by his lack of sight, and Thorin steadied him; he recoiled from his uncle's touch, but Thorin did not let go. Instead, he pushed him forward.

"Walk."

Kíli obeyed, sniffling, as he was led into a building; it smelled familiar inside, but he couldn't quite place it. He searched his mind, but nothing came to light. Dísheartened, a sob left him, and he would have collapsed, had Thorin not caught him.

"That's enough of that," Thorin muttered, and with one smooth movement, he had picked up his nephew and was carrying him in his arms. Kíli did not fight. How could he? He was still blindfolded, and this gruff stranger was stronger than he. He felt himself being lowered onto something soft – a couch, it seemed – and then the stranger was speaking.

"Kíli."

Kíli turned his head in the direction of the voice morosely.

"I'm going to take off the blindfold now. _Please_ do not run."

Kíli sobbed in response.

"All right," said Thorin, and then Kíli could see again. The stranger – _Thorin…_ the name was familiar – knelt before him, the hardness he had displayed before completely gone. Behind him stood Gimli and the one Gimli had called _Father._ Kíli must have a father, too. Where was his father? Maybe – just maybe—

"A-are you my father?" Kíli said to Thorin.

Gimli and Glóin gasped behind Thorin, and the blue-eyed dwarf's mouth dropped open as he blinked rapidly, staring at his nephew in disbelief. Then he turned back to Gimli and Glóin.

"Find Dís," he said. "Bring her home."

"What about Kíli?" said Gimli.

"I've got him," Thorin said. "Find my sister. Quickly."

Gimli and Glóin left, and Thorin turned back to Kíli, eyes shining.

"I'm not your father, Kíli," Thorin said gently. "Don't you know who I am?"

Kíli shook his head, his heart sinking. He was clearly _supposed_ to remember this dwarf, but the memory eluded him. When all he could do was stare blankly at the stranger before him, Thorin reached out to him; but his hands changed to sharp grey claws, and terror gripped Kíli's heart as those claws touched his face.

"No!" Kíli screamed, ripping his face out of Thorin's grip and diving off the couch. He tried to run out the door, but Thorin caught him again, so he threw himself on the floor.

"Please, no, no no no no _no_…" He continued in this way, crawling to a corner of the room and hiding his face in his knees, his arms folded over his legs.

Then Thorin was kneeling beside him. Kíli curled away from him, continuing his pleas, but Thorin did not heed him, reaching out again.

"_Please!_" Kíli begged in a hoarse, agonized scream – a scream that came from his very core, echoing off the walls filled with unspeakable anguish and terror that blackened all memories of joy or love or peace and drowned him in a bottomless ocean of loss and misery.

But still he was not heeded. Two hands came in contact with his face, and he screamed wordlessly, knowing all too well of the terror to come. Hoarse cries erupted from him over and over and he could not stop them, all of his senses overwhelmed by the paralyzing fear that coursed through his veins. Thorin did not let go – he only gripped Kíli's head tighter and pulled him into his chest, shifting one hand to filter into the hair on the back of his nephew's head and the other to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

"It's all right!" he shouted over Kíli's screams. "It's _all right!_ Listen to me, Kíli! It's not happening again! You're safe now! You are _safe!_"

The longer Thorin held Kíli, the more Kíli realized that he was right – no terrifying images flashed through his mind. The hands that held him were warm and even comforting – not cold and clawed. His screams finally died away, their place taken by distressed, heavy sobs that shook both dwarves. The hand on the back of Kíli's head began to stroke his hair gently.

"That's it," said Thorin. "It's me. You remember me, don't you?"

Kíli shook his head. He knew that he _should_ know Thorin, but he could not place him in his mind. Thorin's hand stopped in his hair.

"You _must_ remember me… Kíli… please."

The front door suddenly slammed open then, and Kíli started. Footsteps approached the living room, and Kíli cowered into Thorin with a moan. He closed his eyes tight and willed away this new terror, wishing he could truly find comfort in this familiar stranger's embrace, but as the steps came closer, a high-pitched whine sounded from his throat.

"Kíli!" said a feminine voice. Kíli froze; he knew _that_ voice. He pulled away from Thorin and looked up, seeking more information to fill in the blanks, and as soon as he saw her face, he _knew_.

"Mum," he choked out.

"Oh, Kíli," said Dís, rushing forward and kneeling beside her brother and her son. "Gimli said you wouldn't recognize me. Are you all right? You're pale as death!"

"Mum, what's going on?" Kíli said with wide eyes.

"Here, Thorin, let me have him," said Dís, reaching out for her youngest. Thorin, who had suddenly gone stiff, relinquished his hold on Kíli, the brunet dove into his mother's waiting arms and nestled into her like a child. Instantly, Thorin stood and left the room, startling Kíli again.

"Thorin!" Dís called, but he had already rounded the corner and was out of sight. Dís turned her attention back to Kíli.

"There, love, calm down," Dís said gently. "You're safe now. Relax."

Try as he might, Kíli could not stop the trembling that plagued him, nor could he keep the tears from rolling down his face. The fear he felt seemed etched into his heart, clinging tenaciously to every fiber of his being. He clung to Dís and closed his eyes, soaking up every ounce of comfort his mother could offer – but it wasn't enough. A flash of a terrifying memory went through his mind, and he cried out.

"What's wrong, Kíli?" said Dís.

"I – I don't know," Kíli said. "I don't – I can't remember—"

"Hush, then," said Dís. "Come into the kitchen. Let me make you some tea."

"I-is this home?" Kíli asked timidly.

Dís was silent for a long moment.

"Yes, Kíli," she said finally. "This is home."

"Where is my Da, then? Is he home?" Kíli said. He felt like he should know the answer, but it evaded him once again.

Dís stiffened and pulled Kíli close, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

"Never mind that, love," she said in a broken voice. "Come with me."

Kíli obediently followed his mother into the kitchen on trembling legs, refusing to let go of her hand. She set him down at the table, and he sat quietly, save for the occasional sniffle, as Dís prepared him a cup of tea.

"Where is Gimli?" Kíli asked after several minutes.

"He went home with his father," said Dís.

"Oh," Kíli said. _His father._ What about his own father? Try as he might, he could not bring up any memories, and he grunted, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyelids. This was so _wrong_. There were so many things that he knew he should remember, but all was dark in his mind. As he sniffled again, Dís's hands landed on his shoulders, and he yelped.

"It's all right – it's just me," she said. "Sorry. What's the matter, Kíli?"

"I don't know what's happened to me," Kíli said tearfully. "Everything is just _dark_… I'm so confused, I'm so – I'm so _scared_, and I don't even know why!"

Dís crouched down and pulled her son into a tight hug, and Kíli returned the embrace, weeping into her shoulder. The kettle began to whistle, and she pulled back and wiped the tears off Kíli's face with a sad smile.

"Let me get you some tea now," she said, untangling herself from his arms. "It'll make you feel better."

Kíli watched her prepare the tea, his breath hitching as he tried and failed to calm down. What was _wrong_ with him? He buried his face in his hands.

The soft _clink_ of the mug hitting wood made him start. He looked up to see a steaming cup of tea before him, and he reached out for it with a shaking hand.

"It will help you sleep," she said. "Don't worry, it's not one of Óin's concoctions. The tea tastes fine."

Kíli did not know who Óin was, but the tea looked good. He looped his fingers into the handle and took a sip; the tea _was_ good, albeit a bit too hot. Shivers continued to run through Kíli's body as he drank, but Dís was there, rubbing his back in small circles. When he had finished, she took the mug from him and set it in the sink.

"It's getting late," she said. "Come, let's get you in bed."

Kíli nodded, and Dís assisted him in standing to his feet and led him to his bedroom. She helped him out of his outer clothes wordlessly; then, Kíli sat on the bed, taking quick, short breaths. A sudden twinge on his left side surprised him, and he grunted and slapped a hand over his ribs.

"What is it?" Dís said, glancing at Kíli's hand warily. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," Kíli said. "It – it hurt for a moment. Like a sharp pain."

"Let me see," said Dís, kneeling before him. He lifted up his tunic and looked down at his torso; a scar ran across his left side. He stared at it, confused. What had happened there? He ran two fingers across the raised white flesh, then looked up at his mother. She was staring at the scar with wide eyes.

"Mum?" Kíli said.

"Is that where it hurts?" Dís said, her voice suddenly tight.

"Well, underneath, and not anymore, but yes," Kíli answered in a small voice, alarmed by his mother's reaction. "…Am I going to be all right?"

Dís closed her eyes and pursed her lips with a deep sigh. Then she opened her eyes again and tugged down Kíli's tunic.

"You will be just fine," she said warmly, offering Kíli a comforting smile that almost reached her eyes. "Lay down and rest."

Kíli obediently settled down onto the mattress, watching his mother with growing anxiety. She kissed his forehead and stroked his hair, then turned off the lantern burning at the bedside and left the room.

In the sudden darkness, everything changed. All the terror that had started to wane with his mother's arrival flooded back at once, manifesting itself in imagined cold, grating laughter and a spinning sensation that had Kíli gripping the sheets tightly. He screamed as cold, clawed hands reached out and tore at his arms, his legs, his hair, his chest, and he lashed out against the monsters that haunted him. _I'm alone I'm alone oh help me I'm going to die someone help me _please_ oh please—_

Real hands – warm hands – latched onto him then, but in his state, they were just another monster pulling him down into the earth to his death. He beat against them blindly, crying out. A second pair of hands joined the first, stopping his legs and the first pair of hands grabbed his wrists. An agonized scream left him as he tried to turn over and curl up, but he was stuck in place. His head was lifted up, and he crashed into a body that smelled of woodsmoke and soap and berries. _Mum._ Instantly he stopped struggling and pressed his face into the space between her chin and her collarbone, his hands stuck between their bodies as she wrapped her strong arms tightly around his trembling shoulders.

"Please… please don't go," Kíli said. He was crying again. He felt as if he had been crying his entire life.

"I'll stay here all night if you need me to," she said into the top of his head. Kíli let out a soft, throaty hum and nestled into his mother's arms, pulling his knees up and leaning his full weight into her. He felt the mattress move as another dwarf's weight lifted from it, and he cowered, unsure of who the intruder was, but too comfortable to look. No footsteps followed, and Kíli listened curiously.

"Tomorrow, brother," Dís said. "Try again tomorrow. Not tonight."

Kíli heard a heavy sigh, and then purposeful footsteps left the room. Then there was a _click_, and Kíli and Dís were alone.

Dís began to hum, a soft, lilting tune that seemed comforting and familiar, but Kíli could not place it. Still, it relaxed him, and he let his racing mind rest as he focused on the simple melody. Soon he was yawning into his mother's neck, and he felt a small chuckle hop in her chest. Then fatigue overtook him; he gave into it quickly and drifted off into a deep but troubled sleep.

* * *

_**Aaaaand that's chapter 9! Sorry to Nalbal, who I wanted to beta this chapter but I got too impatient waiting for her to get online and posted it anyway. I'm terrible. Check Mhyin's tumblr - she'll be posting an illustration of chapter 3 soon! I can't say how soon "soon" is, but trust me. SOON! **_

_**There will be more Fíli in the next chapter, for those of you who miss him. I know I do. My poor Fee...**_

_**BONUS CONTENT FOR READING THIS CHAPTER AGAIN, IF YOU DID: When Thorin abruptly leaves the room, this is what happens. A tiny tidbit for you.**_

Thorin sat down hard on the edge of his bed and dropped his head into his hands. Kíli's words rang through his head, crashing into his skull and making him wince with each repetition. _Please. Don't. No._ He _cowered_ before his uncle. He was _afraid_ of him.

If there was one thing in all the world that Thorin never, ever wanted to happen, this was it.

A choked sob left Thorin's lips as he buried his face further into his hands. He knew he had seemed cold and impassive to his family about what had happened to Fíli, but the truth was that he had barely been able to keep his composure since Kíli had brought his older brother home unconscious. The only strength he had in him was found in being weathered by over a century of grief and pain, and the comfort that though Fíli was compromised, at least he was _alive_. There _had_ to be some way to fix this.

But now Kíli, too. _Foolish boy,_ Thorin thought, grinding his palms into his eyelids. _You should have stayed. You should have waited._ He held his breath, trying to keep in the sob that was trying so hard to escape him; but he lost against the weight of his grief, and a deep, heavy groan escaped from his core into the air. Not Kíli. Not his cheerful, hardheaded, dark-haired little nephew who tried so hard to be an adult but hadn't quite figured it out yet. Thorin had never before heard such fear in his voice or such terror in his eyes, and it had ripped him apart inside.

_He doesn't even know who I am._ That alone was enough to break the strong, stoic dwarf who had already been through so much. _He knew Dís, and he knew Gimli... but he didn't know me._ How was such a thing possible? He could remember his cousin, but not the uncle who had raised him in the place of a father? Jealousy burned through him. Of course he would recognize his mother, but _Gimli._ What about his _uncle_?

Thorin could still feel the weight of Kíli's head against his chest. When he had let go of his nephew, the pressure had remained, and now it threatened to crush his heart. He had been so close - _so close_ to being a comfort to Kíli, but in the end, he could not give what Kíli needed, and he turned to another. He _could not_ receive what he needed from Thorin's embrace, and though the old dwarf knew that he was not Kíli's father and he could not take the place of his mother, the rejection hurt all the same. He had been forgotten - cast aside. He put one hand over his heart - where Kíli had been moments before - and pushed his forehead into the palm of his other hand, gritting his teeth.

Thorin had lost both of his nephews, and the weight was too much to bear.

Silent sobs shook the broad shoulders of the old, burdened dwarf and tears rolled down his cheeks as he gave in to the anguish in his heart. He was not a king. He was no longer an uncle. He would never be a father.

He was nothing.

_**In other news, I have set up a beta profile on this site! PLEASE read the profile before sending me your fics if you'd like me to beta your work, but I'd love to help any of you out! Beware, I'm not here to boost your ego ;)**_

_**Please review! Tell me your feels! **_


	10. Darkness

_**A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! It's been like... more than two weeks, I think. This chapter was horrifically hard to write, and if I hadn't had my dear Nalbal helping me, this would suck so much. I forgot how to write or something. Between that and watching a new show and spending wayyyy too much time on tumblr (I shouldn't have unlimited wifi), this took a long time to get out to you. I'm sorry. But here it is, and it's a longer one! I hope that makes up for it.**_

_**Moving on. Here's chapter 10!**_

* * *

A gentle breeze stirred the dark hair on Kíli's face, tickling the bridge of his nose and rousing him from his sleep. He blinked the fatigue out of his eyes and stretched, reaching out for his mother; when he touched nothing but air on all sides, he bolted upright with a gasp.

"It's all right, Kíli," said Dís from his left. "I'm here."

Kíli turned his head and saw her by the window, and his shoulders slumped, the initial anxiety leaving him. Dís sat down on the bed and smiled.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she said.

Kíli looked down at his hands gathered in his lap. "I'm not shaking anymore," he said. He pressed his palms into his temples and closed his eyes. "But there's this – this tightness in my chest, and it won't go away." He gritted his teeth as he fought back a wave of fear that tried to crash over him; Dís took his hands in hers and pulled them away from his face.

"Kíli," she said gently. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Kíli's shining brown eyes met the deep blue of his mother's. In those eyes he could see a deep care and concern, but there was something else there, too – a sadness and a fear that confused him. Was she worried for him? No – that look said something else, and a small spark went off in his mind that told him that he knew why. But as quickly as the spark had come, it died, leaving Kíli in the impenetrable darkness without flint or tinder, and he simply shook his head.

"I – I don't know what happened," he said. "I know I should, but I don't."

"I won't push you, then," Dís said. "Dwalin told me what happened when—" She stopped, and her eyes widened. Kíli stared at her, perplexed.

"What is it, Mum?" he said, trying to find _Dwalin_ in his memory.

Dís pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. Then she met Kíli's gaze with a wan smile.

"Never mind," she said. "Come, get up and I'll make us some breakfast."

Shadows began to stir in Kíli's mind, fighting to creep into the light, but at the moment, there was nothing. Kíli swallowed back his growing unease and nodded, throwing off his covers. He stood up and stumbled, but he caught himself before he fell. Dís's hand was suddenly on his back, and he jumped; she rubbed his shoulder blades gently, and he relaxed. _You are safe,_ he told himself. _You are home. You are safe._

But something didn't feel quite right. Something was missing…

"Kíli, come on," said Dís.

Kíli obediently made his way into the kitchen and sat down at the table. As Dís busied herself pulling together a meal for her son, he studied his surroundings, searching for anything that would bring back memories. Yes – this was home; he could recognize that now – but it felt empty somehow. He looked at the chairs around the table. There were four, counting the one he sat upon, and he knew that the number was right. Him, Dís… and who else?

"Mum?" he said.

"Yes, my love?"

"Who else lives here?"

When no response came, Kíli turned to look at his mother. She stood leaning on the counter with both hands, looking down. Kíli's stomach lurched and his heart began to pound. _What's wrong? What did I do?_

"Mum?" he said, an edge of panic in his voice.

Dís spun around and tried to smile, but it was wan and insincere, almost pained. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, and Kíli could clearly tell that she was trying to hide her distress as she leaned silently against the counter, avoiding his eye. What had happened? An icy chill of panic trickled down from the top of Kíli's head down through his entire body, and his hands began to shake again.

"Mum, what's happened?" he cried, frozen in his seat. Dís simply shook her head, still refusing to look at him, and Kíli heard a rushing wind start through his ears.

"Dís, are you all right?" came a deep, rough voice from the hall. Kíli yelped and covered his head with his arms, his nose touching the table, and stayed there, trembling.

"I'm fine," came Dís's shaky reply. "I'm all right."

"Kíli?" said the same deep voice, and large hands touched his shoulders. Kíli flinched, but he didn't move, petrified.

"Thorin, you're scaring him," Dís said; the hands lifted from his shoulders, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. _Thorin._ Why couldn't he remember him?

"I live here too, Kíli," Thorin said. Kíli looked up at him, eyebrows raised. Thorin took a seat and sat rigidly, watching Kíli study his face, but still he found no answers. Frustration burned in Kíli's chest, and he looked down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with a trembling finger. He glanced at the fourth chair.

"And my father?"

Kíli did not have to look up to know that Thorin and Dís were both staring at him; he could feel their eyes. Their silence was unnerving, and Kíli bit his lip, fighting against the fear that tried to grip him. He returned to tracing the grain on the table while he waited for a reply.

"Kíli, your – your father… he died a long time ago," said Dís finally. "You were still a baby."

Kíli's head shot up and his eyes widened. His Da? _Dead_? A sinking feeling dropped down through Kíli's stomach and tears sprang to his eyes as Dís's words sunk in. He heard the distant sound of someone calling his name, but he slowly shook his head and ignored the voice.

This couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true. But he knew it was; his memory of his father wasn't _missing_ at all. He didn't even _have_ memories in the first place. He balled his hands into fists and bowed low, sick with frustration and grief. _But I _want_ a father,_ he thought. _I _need_ a father._ He could feel the aching, empty place in his heart growing stronger as his grief grew heavier. Even if he could remember everything that he had ever known in his entire life, there would still be a blank, empty space where a father should be.

"Kíli, are you all right?" said Thorin gently.

"Who are _you_, then?" Kíli burst out tearfully. He couldn't figure it out. He lived here with them, and though Kíli could not explain why, there seemed to be some kind of steadfast strength that emanated from his being and brought him inexplicable comfort. If he wasn't his father, who could he possibly be?

"Kíli…" Thorin whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. He stood and stepped forward, his expression raw with grief, and squatted down to Kíli's level. He reached out with both hands, and Kíli flinched; Thorin drew back and looked into his eyes pleadingly.

"I'm your uncle," he said. "Your Uncle Thorin. Don't you remember me?"

Kíli glanced from Thorin to Dís, seeking confirmation, and Dís nodded. He slowly turned his gaze back to his uncle and stared, searching as hard as he could in the darkness of his thoughts for something, anything, to latch on to, but nothing came to light. He wanted so _desperately_ to remember, to know this old, dark-haired dwarf with piercing blue eyes, and to be free of this oppressive fear that clung to his insides like a stubborn frost. He _needed_ to remember.

"Help me, please," Kíli whispered.

Thorin stared at Kíli with wide eyes, a thousand thoughts and emotions flickering within his deep blue gaze in the span of a moment. His mouth opened and closed as he stuttered.

"I – I don't know how," he admitted finally.

"_Please_," Kíli begged. "Try something – anything. I just want to remember."

Thorin swallowed and nodded. He leaned towards Kíli with a sudden jerking motion, and Kíli gasped and jumped back, his heart pounding.

"It's all right," Thorin said. "I will not hurt you. You have my word."

Kíli nodded and tried to control his breathing, but each breath was coming in faster than the last, and his fingertips and his nose and lips were starting to tingle. Thorin reached out again, and before Kíli could pull away, his hands were on his face; Kíli let out an involuntary shriek, but Thorin pulled him forward until their temples met and held him there. Kíli moaned and tried to escape as half-memories of terrifying visions danced in his head, but Thorin held fast, keeping silent. _Uncle Thorin,_ Kíli said to himself. _He will not hurt me. He gave his word._ But still he could not stop himself from hyperventilating as that cold fear clung to him just as fiercely as Thorin did. His uncle's thumbs began to move, gently stroking his cheekbones. The comforting motion made Kili relax slightly, so unlike the cold hands that he remembered from before.

"I'm not your father, my boy," Thorin said evenly over his nephew's hysterical gasping, "but I have always done my best to be one to you. _Think_, Kíli. Remember me."

Kíli grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. _I can do this,_ he told himself. _He won't hurt me, he's my uncle, I have an uncle._

"Uncle Thorin," he mouthed, fighting the fear and forcing himself to think. "Uncle Thorin. Uncle Thorin. Uncle Thorin…"

"That's right, Kíli," said Thorin. "I know you can do this."

Kíli let out a frustrated sob and shook his head slowly. "I can't – I can't," he said.

Thorin pulled away and looked into Kíli's eyes, his own lit with a pure blue flame.

"Yes, you can," he said.

"But I _can't_," Kíli protested, his voice cracking.

Thorin searched the air for memories; then, snatching one, he turned his gaze back to Kíli.

"I taught you how to use a bow," he said. "Do you remember?"

A shadow stirred in Kíli's mind, and he blinked rapidly, keeping his eyes fixed on Thorin. His uncle seized upon the recognition in Kíli's eyes and continued.

"Your b- others said a bow wasn't very proper. Very dwarven. But we knew better, eh? Not everything is close range. A bow comes in handy. Do you remember me saying that?"

Kíli nodded, his brow furrowed as a dim memory crept out of the darkness, but its shape still could not be seen. A smile twitched on Thorin's lips.

"And the first time you hit a target right on the bull's-eye – I was so proud. Do you remember what I said to you?"

"'You have the makings of a great warrior, Kíli,'" said Kíli automatically, and half a moment later, the full memory followed. _Thorin. Uncle._ Standing tall over a tiny, dark-haired dwarfling with an equally tiny bow, pride shining in his eyes as they stood before a perfectly shot target. He had been so happy in that moment. The corners of his lips twitched upwards, and soon a broad grin spread across his face as the floodgates opened and memories came rushing back. Sword training with Thorin and Dwalin; studying books with Balin; scraps of other memories with other kin. He _remembered._

A bright smile lit up Thorin's face at the look of recognition on Kíli's face, and he pulled his nephew into a crushing hug. Kíli immediately returned the embrace, clinging tightly to his uncle as part of the fear in his heart dissipated.

"Uncle," he said into Thorin's shoulder.

"You did it, Kíli," said Thorin joyously. "I knew you could, my boy."

Suddenly Kíli's rush of memories hit a dark wall, and he stiffened, his fingers curling into the fabric of Thorin's tunic as he gasped.

"Kíli, what's wrong?" said Dís. Thorin attempted to pull away, but Kíli held on tight and dropped his head onto his uncle's shoulder.

"Something is still missing," he said. "Something important. I can feel it."

"Let me go, lad," said Thorin gently, and Kíli relinquished his hold on his uncle. The old dwarf held him at arm's length by the shoulders and studied his face.

"What do you remember?" he said.

"N-nothing – I-I mean – I'm not sure," Kíli said. "I remember lots of things… You, Mum, Balin, Dwalin, Glóin... our family and friends – it's coming back, I think. But something is missing, and I don't know what."

Thorin turned and caught Dís's eye; they exchanged wary glances, and Kíli narrowed his eyes.

"Are you keeping something from me?" he said.

Both siblings quickly looked back to Kíli.

"You've been through enough stress for today, my love," said Dís. "And you haven't even had breakfast. Come, let us all eat together, hm?"

_They're hiding something._ He could see it in their eyes. But even as the shadows moved behind that dark wall, nothing further came forth, and Kíli tried to put it out of his mind. Pressing closer to those hidden memories only made him anxious and afraid, and he had had quite enough of that. Even so, whatever it was that he had forgotten – it was not a small thing. It was something important; something _very_ important, and the fact that Thorin and Dís seemed to know and were unwilling to tell him did nothing to calm him down. He looked again at the fourth chair at the table, and for a fraction of a moment, he could almost _see_ someone sitting there – someone with golden hair and a confident grin. But then the image faded into shadow, and Kíli slumped in his seat, disappointed. Who had he just remembered?

* * *

Kíli's patience was wearing thin. He had spent a good portion of the day with Thorin, doing mundane activities that had undoubtedly been chosen to keep him calm. Every time he tried to bring up those missing memories, Thorin pulled him off the subject and gave him something else to do. By lunchtime, his fear had almost been forgotten as frustration burned fiercely inside him. He scowled over his lunch silently, trying to think of some way to get his uncle and his mother to broach the subject.

"Can I ask a question?" he said finally.

Thorin and Dís both stopped what they were doing and looked up at Kíli, their faces wary.

"Kíli, I don't think—" Dís started, but Kíli interrupted.

"No, this is a different question," Kíli said quickly. He had planned this; if he started with a subject they were willing to address, perhaps he could steer them towards whatever they were trying to hide. "I want to know about my father."

"Oh," said Dís. She abandoned her dishes and sat down with her brother and her son at the table. "What do you want to know?"

Kíli shrugged. "Anything," he said. "What he looked like. How he acted." He glanced down at his food and lowered his voice. "How he died." He kept his eyes on the table in the silence that followed and waited for someone to speak.

"Well," Dís started, "he looked a lot like you, Kíli. Or – you look a lot like he did."

Kíli looked up. "Really?" he said.

Dís nodded. "He did. Except he didn't have dark hair – that comes from our side." She nodded towards Thorin. "His hair was a dark blond, and he always wore it quite long… but he would braid it in the front, just like Fí—" She stopped and covered her mouth with her hand, cringing.

Kíli barely noticed her blunder; his mind had caught hold of the image of golden hair, and a face was forming beneath it – a face he knew. There was a confident smile, just like he had seen before, and blue eyes, crinkled at the corners with joy. It was so _real_ - it had to be real.

"I remember him," Kíli gasped.

Dís lowered her hand and looked hard at her son. "Kíli, you weren't even two years old when he died," she said. "You couldn't remember him."

"But I do," Kíli said ardently. "Blond hair and blue eyes—"

"He had brown eyes, just like you," said Dís. Something had changed in her voice; now it was hard and wary, and Thorin was staring at him, too. _What did I do now?_ he wondered, unease rising in his stomach.

"Well, then, what—"

"Do you want to hear more about your father?" said Dís. Kíli gave her a strange look, but he nodded, and Dís looked relieved.

"He was selfless, very selfless," she said, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "Proud, too, like all dwarves are, but he… he didn't have the vices that we of the royal line have. He was – he was _better_, better than we were."

"Royal line?" said Kíli.

"Yes, Kíli," said Thorin. "Do you remember the history of the Dwarves? Of Durin the Deathless?"

Kíli searched his mind for _Durin_, but he could not find it. He shook his head.

"The father of the greatest clan of the Dwarves. Ruler of Khazad-dûm – reborn to us to rule our people at certain times in history. You are descended from him, Kíli – as am I."

_Khazad-dûm._ The name sparked in Kíli's mind, and he remembered learning about the ancient halls and of Durin the Deathless, and even later of the loss of that great kingdom to Durin's Bane. Then the Dwarves had settled in Erebor, until it had been lost to the great fire-drake, Smaug… _Yes_ – he remembered, but this memory brought him no joy. He knew who Thorin was now – who he _really_ was.

"The rightful king," Kíli said softly. "To Erebor. That's who you are, isn't it? You're not just my uncle – you're a king."

"An exiled king," Thorin said bitterly. "But yes, Kíli. I am the rightful King Under the Mountain."

Kíli nodded, going over this information in his head. Thorin was his mother's brother, and he did not have children of his own. But he knew also that _he_ was not Thorin's heir – and then he hit that dark wall again. _That's it,_ he thought. _There's someone missing. Someone important._ He pushed at the darkness, but it pushed back, and an icy chill spread through his veins, making his fingers tremble.

"Kíli? Kíli, focus on me," Thorin said, his voice seeming to come from far away. Kíli forced his eyes upwards and locked onto Thorin, barely aware of anything else. Thorin took hold of his wrists.

"Focus, Kíli," he said. "Don't go there. You don't have to force yourself."

Kíli nodded and pulled away from that dark place; he tried to think on anything else, anything but that darkness that frightened him so.

"M-my father," Kíli said. "How did he die?"

Thorin's brow furrowed. "That doesn't seem like the best choice of topic," he said.

"No – please; I want to know," Kíli said. "How did he die?"

"He drowned," Dís said softly, and Kíli turned his eyes to her face. Her lip trembled, and she could not meet her son's gaze. "He – he was selfless, so selfless – but sometimes I wish that he had been a little more selfish."

"What happened?" Kíli said.

"There were two dwarflings playing by the creek, and they fell in," Dís said, wiping tears from her eyes. "He jumped in and rescued them, but it had been raining and the creek was high – I don't know how he got that second little boy out and not himself. He _knew_ how to swim. It was like something held him under. I still – I still don't…" She trailed off into a sob, and Thorin quickly moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her. She turned into his embrace, burying her face into his chest, and began to weep. A dwarf's grief was deep and slow-healing, piercing and poisonous, and Kíli regretted pressing her on such a painful matter. He looked down at his hands silently as Thorin comforted his little sister and pondered the story he had just heard. It seemed familiar, somehow – and not just because he had heard it before, which he now realized that he had. Light was filtering into the dark places of Kíli's mind, and a memory was slowly coming through. A mirthful, lilting voice; two hands on his back; then water, lungfuls of water, until Fíli pulled him out—

"Fíli," Kíli gasped. _Of course._ How could Kíli have forgotten his own brother? How could he have lost the most important person in his entire world? His eyes shot to that fourth chair. _Fíli._ Of course it was Fíli. His blond hair and his blue eyes, and that ever-confident and yet slightly mischievous grin, framed by two braids dangling from his upper lip. His steadfast and constant rock that kept him grounded. His best friend.

Where was he?

"Where is Fíli?" he said, straightening and looking at his mother and uncle. They broke apart and looked back, their expressions identical – they both look nervous, unsure, and even grieved. Fear seized Kíli's heart when neither of them answered.

"Mum? Uncle?" he said nervously.

"He's – he's out," said Dís; she stumbled over her words clumsily and refused to look Kíli in the eye.

"Out where?" Kíli said suspiciously.

"Just out and about," Dís said, her eyes flickering between Thorin and the open air.

"Dís," said Thorin, a warning in his voice that Kíli could not interpret. He looked back and forth between his kin, trying to decipher whatever they were saying without words, but he could make no sense of it. _Something is still missing._

"What's happened to Fíli?" he said. Even as he said it, however, the darkness reared up against him, and he winced. Suddenly, he didn't _want_ to remember. Whatever it was, it was important – _so_ important – and he didn't want to know. _But what about Fíli?_ he thought, and his mind warred against itself. He wished his brother were right at his side, with his comforting warmth and strength and surety. But Kíli was alone, and a cold, grating voice whispered to him out of the darkness that _something has happened to Fíli._

"Kíli, calm down," said Dís anxiously.

"Tell me what's happened!" Kíli demanded, though his mind said _no, no, I don't want to know._ His fingers curled into fists as his thoughts became cloudy and disjointed. _Stop,_ his mind said. _Stop this._

"You need to relax," said Thorin, his eyes wide with alarm. "Now is not the time, Kíli – not when you are like this."

"Is he all right?" Kíli said. "Just – just tell me that he is all right."

"Please don't," Dís said. "Not now. Not right now."

Kíli stubbornly held on to his question, searching his own mind for the answer. He remembered Fíli rescuing him from the creek… helping him home… then Fíli getting in trouble for _his_ mistake – then it struck him like a lightning bolt.

_"Shut up." Fíli threw on a dry tunic and sat down on the bed, pulling his boots back on hastily. "I'm going out. I'm not dealing with you right now."_

_ "Fíli, please…"_

_ "Don't talk to me!" Fíli snapped. He stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him._

"He left," Kíli said. "He was angry with me, and he left. Where did he go?"

"Kíli, you need to stop," Thorin said authoritatively. "Trust me when I say this. I will fix this. I will take care of this."

"Take care of _what_?" Kíli demanded.

"I-I think it may be better if you don't know," said Dís meekly. "Your uncle is right. You need to calm down. Please, Kíli."

"_Where is my brother?_" Kíli screamed, rising to his feet. Somewhere in that darkness, Kíli _knew_, he _knew_ that something had happened – something horrible – and he was terrified. Not the cold, icy terror that clung to him, but a hot, burning fear that consumed his heart and said _he's dead, he's dying, he's been captured, he's missing_ – any and every possibility ran through his mind, and he knew the answer somewhere deep down, but he could not bring it to light. The idea of spending the rest of his life without his brother made him feel sick, and suddenly he gagged as his stomach turned upside down; he turned away from the table and fell to his hands and knees, breathing raggedly. He was sick, he was going to be sick and he didn't even know _why_, and then he vomited with tears streaming down his face, heaving over and over until finally he had nothing left in his stomach. He pitched forward with a groan and would have landed in his own sick, were it not for Thorin's strong arms wrapping around his middle and pulling him back. He fell shuddering into his uncle's chest and did not move.

"Stop this, Kíli," Thorin said. "You're working yourself up."

"H-he left because of me," Kíli croaked. His mouth was sour with bile and his throat was sore. "Where did he go? Where is he, Uncle?"

"That is _enough_," said Thorin. "We are not going to discuss this now. Look what you have done to yourself."

"I need Fíli," Kíli said tearfully. "Please – please tell me – at least that he's alive."

"He is alive," said Thorin gravely, "and we are done discussing this. Come into the living room and relax."

Kíli numbly allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and led to the living room. His mind was in a haze, and now he was exhausted and his abdomen hurt from heaving. Thorin pulled him over to the couch and sat him down; Kíli immediately pulled himself into the corner and drew up his knees, hugging them close to his body.

"Stay here," Thorin said. "And please, Kíli – calm down. Think on other things. Don't do this to yourself."

Kíli sniffled and nodded, and Thorin left the room. As soon as he was gone, Kíli buried his face in his hands and wept. Something horrible had happened – he was sure of it in his heart, and Thorin and Dís's reactions had confirmed it. The thought that he could be without his brother forever, his last words to him angry and hurtful, was too much for Kíli to bear. He _needed_ to know what had happened and where Fíli was. He needed to be forgiven and loved, and yet he was forbidden to even mention his brother at all.

Somehow, even though the cold terror had lessened and his memories of his family had returned, he felt more alone now than he ever had in his entire life.

* * *

_**If you saw me repost chapter 9 and didn't go look, I recommend checking it out. There's some bonus content at the end - a little bit from Thorin's POV that I think you'd like to see. And if you didn't see, I posted a oneshot entitled Unthinkable, as well! Be warned, it's painful, but everyone who has reviewed seems to like it anyway. So take a look!**_

_**I know it takes me a while to update and you guys get impatient, so I've decided to do a little shout-out for some of my favorite fics and authors to keep you guys occupied while you wait. I highly recommend A Private Little War by Nalbal, any and all fics by Neocolai, Always by Cockapoo, Bring Them Home by MistakenMagic, and The Legend of Durin by Scribe of Erebor. If you are familiar with AO3 (archiveofourown) you might know of Frailty by flollius, as well, which is amazing and will rip your heart to shreds. So if you're bored, check those out!**_

_**Please review! Send Kíli your love and hugs to make him feel better!**_


	11. Shock

_**A/N: Thank you to Mhyin and cecania13 for reading this chapter before I posted it! I was worried and they both loved it, so I hope you guys all love it, too.**_

* * *

"Please, just tell me where he is."

"Kíli…" said Thorin with a sigh. This had been a battle all day long. "Let it alone. You need to rest and relax. You have been through too much."

Kíli fixed a hard glare on his uncle. Before he could speak, however, Thorin spoke again.

"No more questions, Kíli. Find something with which to occupy your time."

After throwing Thorin an especially belligerent glare, Kíli spun around and stalked off to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and flopped face-first onto his bed, growling.

"You don't understand," he mumbled into his mattress. "You… you just don't understand."

There was still a dark wall inside Kíli's mind – one that he longed to tear down and fill with light. He needed to _understand_. What had happened to him? Why was it that he could remember Fíli stalking out the door, livid with him, and then his next memory was of Gimli's rough voice calling him a fool while his heart and mind were overwhelmed with an inexpressible terror? What had happened in those few days that his mind refused to let him remember? Whenever he pushed against the walls, they fought back, sending waves of fear through his body. He was tired and confused, but he would not take no for an answer.

Kíli shivered as a chill wind blew through his room from the open window, raising goosebumps on his exposed arms. It was a wet wind that signified a coming storm, and judging by how dark it was outside at such an early hour, it was going to be a strong one. He could hear nearby trees hissing, and the birds were silent. He shuddered as an image of a cold, dark, wet place sprang into his mind, bringing with it a fresh wave of fear that he could not place. Moaning, he shoved his face into his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. Though the fear still chilled him inside, a frustration also burned in his gut. He wasn't _like_ this. This wasn't _him._ He was Kíli, sister-son of Thorin Oakenshield, heir of Durin the Deathless, trained warrior and skilled bowman. He was not this cowering, frightened creature that jumped at every little thing.

_Boom._ A crack of thunder broke into Kíli's thoughts and he shrieked, curling instinctively against the sound as his heart pounded ferociously in his chest. Then the rain started in a deafening rush, wind coursing through the bedroom and whipping Kíli's hair about. Another _boom_ reduced Kíli to a quivering mess on his bed, and he gritted his teeth angrily. This needed to _stop._

"Kíli?" said a voice at his door, and he started before recognizing it as his mother's. He didn't move, however, opting to stay curled into his pillow with his face hidden from view. He was ashamed – ashamed to be so weak and afraid.

"Oh, Kíli," said Dís, and her footsteps moved past his bed to the other side of the room. He heard the _click_ of his window being shut, and the hiss of rain softened. His mattress shifted, and his mother's hand was in his hair, pulling out the tangles the wind had caused.

"This isn't _me_, Mum," he said.

"What was that, love?"

Kíli pulled his face out of his pillow. "This isn't _me,_" he repeated. "This... being afraid of everything. Jumping at any sound. I _know_ it isn't me, but I can't stop it."

Dís was silent for a long time, stroking her son's hair as she thought.

"And you still don't remember what happened to you?"

Kíli shook his head miserably. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Dís.

"The thing is that I feel like I don't _want_ to remember," he said. "I mean, I do – I _really_ do – but every time I try, I feel... worse. More afraid. Like my own memory is trying to keep me out."

Dís twisted her lips and studied Kíli's face, brushing his hair away from his eyes. Kíli looked at her expectantly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would let him in on whatever the secret was, but she said nothing. A hot rush of anger flooded through him, and he turned away from her suddenly.

"Please leave me alone," he said roughly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Now, Kíli—"

"If you're not going to help, I'd rather be alone," he snapped.

Dís sighed heavily, and then the mattress shifted; her footsteps moved towards the door. Suddenly an especially loud _crack_ of thunder hit, and Kíli yelped, covering his head with his arms.

"Kíli—"

"Leave me alone!" he shouted.

A soft _click_ told Kíli that his mother had done as he wished. He lifted his head out of his arms and scanned the room, just to make sure. Satisfied that he was alone, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands, taking in a deep breath. A sharp pounding was starting on the left side of his temple, and he rubbed the spot with his knuckle; the pounding remained, and he growled.

Sitting around moping wasn't going to accomplish anything. He felt restless – he needed to _do_ something. He wasn't going to remember anything by laying on his bed and feeling sorry for himself. Thunder rolled again outside, and Kíli closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could fight this. He was a warrior, not a coward, and he would prove himself to be so. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, wincing as a particularly loud crack of thunder shook the house. Then he stood and started towards the door.

"Dís, can I speak to you?" he heard on the other side in the low rumble of Thorin's voice. He paused and pressed his hand gently against the wood, listening intently.

"What about?" came Dís's reply.

"Privately," said Thorin. "Not out here. Come down to my room."

Kíli waited until the footsteps had descended down the hall and the _click_ of a door was heard, and then he opened his own door as quietly as he could. He stepped out into the kitchen and looked down the hall; Thorin's door was shut, and the low murmur of voices drifted towards him, too quiet for him to understand.

_Go listen in,_ said a part of his mind, and he looked down the hall apprehensively. The fear was rising in his gut – they were talking about him. He knew they were, and that feeling that said _I don't want to know_ was pushing at him, making his heart pound. He swallowed and clenched his shaking hands into fists and ignored it, tiptoeing down the hall until he was right outside Thorin's bedroom.

"...going to be hard either way," Thorin was saying. "Keeping him in the dark will only make him more distressed. You saw him, Dís. He made himself _sick._"

"But what will happen when he _does_ find out?" Dís said. "He's going to be beyond comfort, Thorin. You know how close they are."

Silence. Kíli leaned in closer to the door, his heart pounding even harder than before.

Dís spoke again. "Perhaps if we let him _see_ Fíli—"

"Absolutely not," Thorin said sharply. "I will _not_ let him speak with Kíli. It has ended in disaster every time. They cannot see each other."

So Thorin hadn't been lying – Fíli was alive. But why couldn't he see him? What had happened to Fíli? Where was he? He thought hard, pushing again against that darkness, but it reared up against him once again, sending him further into distress. The thunder rolled, and he stifled a yelp, clapping his hands over his ears. However, curiosity soon got the better of him, and he swallowed his fear as best he could and leaned in again to listen to his mother and his uncle.

"We have to wait," Thorin said – in reply to what, Kíli had missed, but he heard a sniffle that must have come from Dís. "Kíli is coming out of it – perhaps Fíli will, too. We can only hope."

Kíli blinked rapidly and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his frantic breathing. Whatever happened to him had happened to Fíli, too – and he still didn't know what it was. But if Fíli felt anything like he did, he _needed_ to see him. They were brothers – they were always there for each other. And maybe – just maybe – if he saw his brother, he would be able to remember what had happened, and they could work through it together.

"Who's with him now?" Dís said.

"Glóin," Thorin replied. "But I am going to take his place now – I haven't seen him since Kíli and Gimli returned."

Kíli stepped back and ran as quickly and as quietly as he could back to his room, lest he be caught and reprimanded for listening in. He made it into his room and shut the door quietly, and a moment later, he heard Thorin step out of his room. He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands and trying to calm his pounding heart and his harsh breathing. But what he had just heard swirled through his head and made him dizzy. He needed to see Fíli – the strength of that need shot through him like lightning and left him tense.

_I could follow Thorin,_ he thought suddenly. But Thorin would never let him come – he had told Dís that they could not see each other. He would have to follow him unseen, then. Given the roar of the rain outside, that would be relatively easy. It was too dark and too loud for Thorin to see or hear him trailing behind.

Thorin's footsteps neared Kíli's door, and Kíli gasped. He threw himself under the covers and faced away from the door; perhaps if he pretended to sleep, Thorin would not suspect him. Thorin knocked, and Kíli said nothing. Another knock came, and still Kíli did not respond. Then the door opened, and steps neared the bed.

"Kíli?" Thorin said.

Kíli lay still and tried to breathe as evenly as possible.

"Kíli, I know you're awake."

Kíli scowled. Of course he knew – he always knew. He could never fool Thorin – or Fíli or Dís, for that matter. He rolled over and looked at his uncle plaintively.

"What?" he said.

"How are you feeling?" Thorin said gently.

"Better," Kíli said. "But it's still hard... Uncle, why can't you just tell me what happened?"

Thorin sighed. "Just be patient, Kíli," he said. "Wait a little while longer."

"When can I see Fíli?" Kíli pressed.

"Be _patient_," Thorin repeated, and Kíli scowled as a bolt of anger went through him. He wanted to blurt out all that he had heard, but then he would be found out, and he would not be able to follow Thorin to wherever he was going. So he rolled back over and said nothing more. From behind him, he heard a heavy sigh, and then his uncle retreated from the room.

"I will be back later, Dís," said Thorin on the other side of the door.

"Bring him this," said Dís. "He'll be hungry."

In the silence that followed, Kíli pulled himself out of bed and looked at the door, thinking. Dís was in the kitchen, and there was no way that she would let him leave the house right after Thorin. She was sharp – she would know what he was doing. He looked quickly towards the window, considering. He hadn't sneaked out that window in years, but he hadn't grown much since then. He could surely still fit. The only problem was that he wouldn't have his cloak – or his shoes.

The front door slammed, and Kíli knew he had no more time to lose – he would just have to get wet. He leapt over the bed towards the window and pulled it open, and a cold, wet gust of wind caught him by surprise. He braced himself and pulled his body through the window, making it through relatively easily. Instantly he was soaked through by the torrential downpour; the thunder roared again, and Kíli found himself on his knees with his hands over his ears, shaking. _No,_ he told himself. _I can do this._ He pushed himself back up onto his feet and ran up to the corner of the house, watching for Thorin through the rain. He spotted him up ahead, hunched over against the rain, and waited. As he rounded a corner, Kíli dashed after him, looking left and right to make sure no one was watching. He held a hand over his brow to keep the rain out of his eyes, searching. Again he spotted him, just about to round another corner, and ran after him. Thorin had not looked back once, and for that Kíli was grateful.

Where was he going? Suddenly it hit Kíli that he couldn't remember how to get through the town, and he swallowed. He had no idea how to get home if he lost Thorin – he was going to have to be _really_ sneaky to get back home without getting caught, or he was going to have to reveal himself to his uncle and bear the consequences. But he pushed that out of his mind for now. Fíli was more important. Thorin turned again, and Kíli followed.

The rain was pouring even harder now, and the droplets were large and pounded against Kíli's bare arms. It was not cold, but the wet and the wind made him shiver, and though Kíli was growing accustomed to the thunder, he could not stop himself from jumping at every loud _boom_. Wherever Thorin was going, Kíli hoped that he got there soon.

Eventually Thorin stopped in front of a dreary stone building; he opened the door and walked inside, and Kíli stared after him, thinking hard. He recognized this building – he _knew_ he did – but he could not place it in his mind, save for the feeling of dread that accompanied it. He circled the building, looking for windows, and found one on the far side. He peered in and saw a dark room lit by torches with a dirt floor and – _cells_? Kíli started as he realized that this was a _jail_. Why had Thorin come here? Surely Fíli couldn't be in _prison._

Thorin and Glóin were talking. Kíli could see their lips moving, but he could not hear what they were saying through the glass window, and he was not adept at lip reading. He ducked away from the window and sat down on the wet ground with his back against the wall. What was he to do now?

Thorin had said that Glóin was with Fíli – but why was Fíli at the jail? Fíli would never do anything that would warrant being locked up. Not his Fíli. There must have been something else going on. He stood up again and looked in the window; Glóin was leaving, and Thorin was sitting down in a chair in front of one of the cells. Kíli squinted, trying to see more in the dim light. Suddenly the door to the jail opened, and Kíli gasped and turned the corner to avoid being seen. He could not hear Glóin's footsteps over the rain, but he did not see him, either, and after a minute with no sign of his cousin, he relaxed. He slowly made his way back around the corner, looking from side to side, and peered back in the window – but what he saw made his heart drop into his stomach.

Fíli was in the jail cell.

Without any further regard for decorum or consequence, Kíli ran to the door and burst into the jail. He stood in the entrance, dripping wet and breathing hard; Thorin stared at him in shock, and Fíli's face was twisted into a strange expression that Kíli did not recognize, a piece of bread halfway in his mouth.

"Kíli, what are you doing here?" Thorin demanded, standing up and blocking Kíli's view of his brother.

"Why is he in there?" Kíli shouted hoarsely. He pointed at Fíli with a dripping finger.

"You need to leave," Thorin said, his eyes wide with alarm. "You should not be here."

"_Answer the question!_" Kíli shrieked.

Thorin opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but said nothing. Kíli had never seen him so caught off-guard. They stood in silence for a long moment; the dirt beneath Kíli's bare feet began to turn to mud.

"Uncle. Tell me the truth," said Kíli roughly.

Suddenly, a mirthless chuckle emerged from behind Thorin's frame, and both Kíli and Thorin looked to Fíli. He was staring at his brother with dark eyes, a cruel grin playing on his lips. He set down the bag of food Thorin had brought and started to speak.

"Still pathetic, I see," he said. His voice was the same: soft and confident, but the words were not his. Fíli would never talk like that. "More pathetic than ever, it seems."

Kíli looked from Fíli to Thorin, his eyes wide and his throat stopped up. He could barely think anymore; his hands were shaking, whether from the chill or from the shock of finding Fíli in jail, he did not know.

"Quiet, Fíli," Thorin shot out, and Fíli let out a light snort, but was silent. Thorin turned his gaze to his younger nephew and took a step forward.

"You shouldn't have followed me," he said gravely. "We didn't want you to—"

"You didn't want me to _what_?" Kíli exclaimed. "Find out that you've locked Fíli up in _jail_? What could he have _possibly_ done to deserve such a thing? He is my brother, Thorin! He would _never_—"

"He attacked you," Thorin interrupted loudly.

Kíli took a step back as if he had been delivered a physical blow.

"He what?" he croaked.

"He attacked you, Kíli," Thorin repeated, his voice rife with grief. "He – he is suffering from the same thing you are. Except he's worse. He has not remembered any of us – and he's been violent."

"N-no he didn't. He wouldn't," Kíli said, shaking his head slowly. A shadow of a memory was stirring, but he pushed it back into the darkness. _No. Fíli wouldn't. Not my Fíli._

"You don't remember," said Fíli, his dark eyes set on his little brother.

"Fíli," Kíli said brokenly. He tried to say more, but his voice wouldn't work. _Tell me it's not true. Tell me you know who I am._

"How does it feel?" Fíli snarled. His voice was harsh, but it cracked, and his lower lip trembled; for a moment, a flash of desperation shone in his eyes, but they quickly hardened again, and the two brothers simply stared at one another.

This was familiar, somehow. Kíli knew it was, but he didn't _want_ to remember this time. He didn't want to know anymore, but he couldn't stop – the memory came anyway. Fíli screaming in bed, waking up and attacking him, and the coldness with which he had treated his kin. Fíli didn't remember him. Fíli didn't remember _anyone_. The memory was a cold shock, and Kíli stumbled under the weight of it, his eyes still locked on his brother. More memories assaulted him and he could not push them back.

_Kíli opened the bedroom door and was instantly snatched inside, Fíli's arm wrapped around him tightly. Kíli felt the sharp tip of one of Fíli's many knives against his throat, and an icy chill of panic drained him of all ability to move or think. He stood rigid, moving only as his brother dragged him out of the bedroom and six pairs of eyes looked on in horror._

Kíli's entire body was shaking. This was hard enough the first time – but now, coupled with the fey magic still affecting him, the revelation was almost too much to bear. Blood was rushing in his ears, and his vision was getting hazy. Words were coming back to him now. _You sniveling little worm – you pathetic creature... I'd wring your skinny little neck... You'll beg for death before I'm through with you! _A choked cry left his throat, and suddenly Thorin's hands were on his face. He screamed and tried to pull away, but Thorin held him tight.

"Kíli, stop this," Thorin said. "Calm down."

Kíli turned his gaze to his uncle and stood still, trembling violently. Thorin looked him over worriedly, then pulled him into a hug. The embrace did nothing for Kíli's state of mind; he stood rigid in Thorin's arms, struggling to process what was happening. This was too much, too much at once. The world was crashing down around him and he had nothing to hold it up.

"You need to go home," Thorin said. He looked around him, as if someone would appear that could whisk Kíli away, but they were alone. He sighed and held his nephew at arm's length.

"Look at me, Kíli," he said. "You need to... _Mahal_, Kíli, why did you follow me? I can't send you home like this..."

Kíli couldn't speak. He didn't want to speak – he didn't want to do anything anymore. Fíli was laughing at him. He could hear him laughing through the rush of blood in his ears.

"Quiet, Fíli!" Thorin shouted, and Kíli jumped. A bolt of anger shot through him – why was Thorin shouting at Fíli? He was a victim, not a criminal.

"Don't talk to my brother like that," he said.

"Kíli—"

"He doesn't deserve it," Kíli said coldly. "It's not his fault."

Thorin studied his youngest nephew's face for a few moments, seemingly torn. But though Kíli felt sick and confused and overwhelmingly upset, he was unmoving in this one thing – Fíli did not deserve to be treated thus. He met his uncle's eyes with burning coals in his own, adamant. Finally Thorin nodded, and he stepped away from Kíli and grabbed the chair near Fíli's cell.

"I'm putting this far from your brother's cell," he said, dragging the seat to the corner by the door. "You sit here until I can get someone to come for you." He looked over Kíli's shuddering frame with a sigh and pulled off his cloak. "And wear this. By Durin, Kíli, I don't know _what _possesses you to do half the things you do."

Kíli was silent as Thorin draped the cloak over his shoulders and pushed him into the chair. The cloak was warm and dry inside, and he wrapped it tightly around himself and pulled the hood over his head. Water still trickled down his face and his back from his hair, but at least inside the hood, it was warm. Then Thorin walked across the room to Fíli's cell and leaned against the wall, shooting a warning look at the blond dwarf.

Fíli stared at Kíli.

Kíli pulled the hood further over his face until he couldn't see anything. He shook inside the cloak and cursed himself for this rash, stupid idea. Now he knew where Fíli was, but that knowledge had not brought him the peace he thought that it would. Instead, he felt worse, much worse, and nothing he could do could stop his heart from sinking deeper and deeper in despair.

The door to the jail suddenly flew open, and Kíli jumped and looked up. In the doorway stood Dís, water dripping from her cloak. She looked around the room wildly, missing her youngest in the corner.

"Is he here?" she said frantically. "I went in his room and the window was open and he was gone. Please tell me he's here."

"He is," Thorin replied, gesturing into the corner. Dís whirled around and dove at her son, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

"You foolish boy!" she said, nearly crushing him in her embrace. "Don't you do that to me! Are you all right?"

Kíli pressed his nose into the juncture of Dís's neck and shook his head.

Dís sighed heavily. "I didn't want you to come here," she said quietly. "Now you know why."

A lump formed in Kíli's throat instantly, and a moment later, tears followed. His face crumpled, and he shrank in his mother's arms and began to cry. From behind Dís, he could hear Fíli laughing again, and he moaned despondently. Thorin whispered something harshly, and the laughter stopped; Kíli lifted his head until he could see over Dís's shoulder. Fíli was leaning against the bars of the cell and had resumed eating the food that Dís had sent with Thorin.

"Let's get you out of here," Dís said gently. She pulled away from Kíli and stood up straight, holding out her hands. Kíli took them and rose, peering over her shoulder at his brother. Fíli did not look back; his shoulders were hunched over and his head was bowed.

"B-but Fíli," he said. Fíli's head rose slightly at the sound of his name, but otherwise he remained still.

"He has to stay," said Dís. "To keep him safe. To keep _you_ – _us_ – safe."

"He can't stay _here_," Kíli choked. "If he's going through what I am—"

"We don't have much of a choice at the moment," Dís said.

"Mum – no – you don't understand—"

"We're going," Dís said firmly, pulling Kíli towards the door.

Kíli ripped himself away from Dís's grip, feeling fresh tears slide down his cheeks. "I can't leave him here!" he said. "Not like this! He – he's got to feel so alone, that's how I felt – it's not his fault!" From the corner of his eye, he saw Fíli go rigid for a moment – but he said nothing, and then he looked back down.

"We know, Kíli, but we don't know what else to do," said Dís. She reached for her youngest again. "Let's go."

Kíli looked towards Fíli again. He wanted to scream, to fight, to beat his fists against the wall and curse out loud. But then a thought occurred to him. Whatever had happened to him had happened to Fíli, which meant that if he could figure out how to fix _himself_ – he needed to do that before he could help his brother. He could solve this, but he needed time and maybe even some help. He would be back for Fíli, and he would get his brother back – completely. He sniffed and allowed Dís to pull him away.

"I'll be back, Fíli," he called. "I'm going to help you. I promise. I won't leave you here alone."

"I'd rather you stayed away," Fíli said quietly.

Kíli blinked and swallowed as Fíli's words cut through him like a knife. He stepped out into the pouring rain with Dís without another word and did not speak the entire way home, his heart aching.

At least in the rain, no one could see him cry.

* * *

_**We're getting close to the big turning point! Just a couple more chapters, I think.  
**_

_**Please review! Kíli needs your love!**_


	12. Remembering

_**A/N: So, this chapter is short and like 95% dialogue, but it's sort of a necessary set-up for what happens next. Please forgive my horribly unbalanced writing in this chapter, and special thanks to my roommate for reading it and telling me she liked it because yeah she's just awesome like that. :D**_

* * *

When Thorin finally came home, Kíli was waiting in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of ale in his hands. He had calmed down considerably in the hours following the harrowing revelation of where Fíli was, especially after the thunderstorm finally passed and left a quiet stillness in its wake. But now that he had had time to sit and think, he had questions that needed answering.

"How is Fíli?" Kíli said softly as Thorin nodded in silent greeting.

Thorin sighed. "The same," he said. "He doesn't say much. He just sits and glares."

Kíli nodded with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. This was so new and yet so familiar at the same time - and either way, he hated it. He just wanted Fíli back; he felt lost and alone without him.

"Who's with him now?" he said.

"Balin," Thorin said. "Only for a couple hours, though – then I don't know who to send." He wiped his hand down his face and rubbed his beard wearily. "Not everyone can take the time to watch over him."

Suddenly a memory came back to Kíli – he had visited Bofur, to ask him questions about… about something. He didn't know what. But he knew that Bofur knew.

"You could send Bofur or Bombur," he said, and Thorin's eyes snapped up, flashing.

"I'm not bringing more people into this," he said.

Kíli ducked his head. "They already know," he said sheepishly. "They – they saw you carry him to the jail."

Thorin's eyes widened. "Did they—"

"No, they didn't tell anyone," Kíli said. "They promised."

Thorin's shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. "I'll have to go speak to them," he said. "I shouldn't have doubted them. They have always been loyal."

"Can I come?" said Kíli. He could remember bits and pieces of his conversation with Bofur, but large parts of it were lost to him; maybe if he spoke to his old friend, the rest would come back.

Thorin studied Kíli sharply, considering. "I suppose so," he said. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

Kíli sat up straight and squared his shoulders. "I'm tired of being afraid," he said. The strength of his own voice surprised him. "Whatever happened, I want to know. I'm not going to let myself be afraid anymore."

A fond smile came over Thorin's face then, and he nodded. Without another word, he made off for his room, patting Kíli's shoulder as he walked by. Kíli turned his head and smiled at the kind gesture, internally celebrating his small victory. He drank the last of his ale and stood, ambling over to the barrel in the corner for some more.

"That's one way to relax," said Dís. Kíli turned his head and spotted her coming up the hallway, and he grinned.

"It's better shared," he said. "Drinking alone – well, it's a bit sad, isn't it?"

"Well, then, get your mother some," said Dís, chuckling. Kíli obliged, and the two sat down at the table with their drinks. Moments of peaceful silence passed, and then Dís spoke.

"How are you holding up?" she said.

"Better with a mug of ale in my hand," Kíli joked. He took another swig.

"I'm being serious, Kíli," said Dís. "You've been through quite a lot. I want to make sure you're all right. _Truly_ all right."

"Of course I'm not all right," Kíli snapped. Then he sighed and set down his ale. "Sorry, Mum. I mean – this isn't a normal situation. I don't know how to react." He grimaced. "It seems like my body has been deciding for me."

"You couldn't help that," said Dís kindly. "At least you're getting better."

"But Fíli isn't," Kíli said. "You and Uncle said that the same thing that happened to me happened to Fíli – but I can't even remember what that is. What's different between us? Why isn't Fíli getting better, Mum?"

Dís twisted her lips and thought for a moment. "I don't know if I should tell you," she said. "The thing is, Kíli, that before it happened to you – you probably don't remember this – but you tried to get Fíli to remember what happened to him. Dwalin told me it didn't end well. Fíli was so distraught that he had to fetch Óin to drug him in order to calm him down."

"Please tell me, Mum," Kíli pleaded.

"I really don't think it's a good idea," Dís said. "We don't know what will happen, Kíli."

"How am I supposed to fix it if I don't know what happened in the first place?" Kíli shot out. "I need to know."

"Who says that you have to be the one to fix it?" said Thorin from the hallway. He got himself a mug of ale and sat down with his sister and nephew. "I've told you many times – I will take care of this. I will fix this."

"Fat lot of good you've been so far," Kíli snapped.

"_Respect_, Kíli!" said Dís, shocked.

"You've done nothing productive, either," Thorin shot back. "The only thing you have managed to do is cause further damage to yourself and your brother. I think it's about time you left this task in someone else's hands."

"I don't even know what I've done!" said Kíli. "No one will tell me what's happened! How am I supposed to know?"

Thorin and Dís exchanged glances, and Kíli watched as a conversation passed between their eyes. Then they turned back to Kíli, and Thorin spoke.

"I can tell you," he said, "but you have to promise me one thing."

Kíli nodded eagerly.

"If any of this becomes too much for you, you have to tell us to stop," Thorin said. "I don't want to have to call for Óin, do you understand?"

Again Kíli nodded, and so Thorin started in on the story, beginning with Kíli's memory of Fíli stomping out the door after their fight. There were bits that Kíli remembered, and others that still eluded him; it was like being reminded of a half-forgotten dream – or in this case, a nightmare. When Thorin mentioned Kíli bringing Fíli back on his pony, Kíli interrupted.

"He was unconscious?" he said.

Thorin nodded. "We couldn't wake him for anything. Do you remember that?"

Kíli compared this news with the memories he had, and a small piece of the story came together. He nodded slowly.

"But why was he unconscious?" he said.

"I don't know," said Thorin. "You're the one who found him, Kíli."

"Was he injured?"

"No, he wasn't. Let me finish, Kíli."

"But I remember the next part," Kíli said. "He was screaming, and then he woke up and he attacked me – and all of that. I remember going to see him in jail, but then after that… nothing." He shrugged.

"That's when you tried to get answers out of Fíli," said Dís. "Do you remember that? We weren't there."

Kíli thought, but nothing came to him. He shook his head.

"I don't know where you went after that," Dís continued.

"I went to see Bofur," Kíli said, surprising himself. "I went to ask him about… oh _Mahal_." The fey. Fíli had been attacked by a fey creature. His brother's words at the jail finally came back to him: _It was darkness and despair and anger and laughter… Hollow eyes and sharp teeth and dead flesh. It wouldn't let me go - it laughed and laughed and I screamed and begged but it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't __stop__!_ An image of the creature flashed through his mind, and his heart instantly seized up with horror and terror. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair and bowed his head, breathing hard.

"Kíli!" said Dís from somewhere far away. Kíli gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting with all his might against the memory and willing it away. He could feel its cold claws on his face, and he pulled on his hair and screamed through his teeth. _Go away go away please go away leave me alone._

"Don't touch his face!" Dís shouted, and Kíli's eyes snapped open to find Thorin right beside him, his hands quickly dropping to his sides.

"Kíli, listen to me," he said. "You're safe. Remember? It can't get you here. You're all right."

A sort of strangled animal sound came from Kíli's throat. He felt lightheaded and sick, but he kept his eyes focused on his uncle. Slowly, Thorin lifted his hands, watching for Kíli's reaction. When Kíli simply kept staring, he reached up and took his nephew's hands, untangling them from his hair and pulling them down.

"All right?" he said.

Kíli shook his head, shaking. "I-I remember it," he said. "The creature. It grabbed me – it grabbed my face, and it was so – so—" Another strangled sound left him, and he clenched his hands into fists and fought the urge to run and hide.

"You're doing well," Thorin said. "Much better than I thought. You'll be all right, Kíli. Relax. Take in a deep breath."

Kíli breathed in and let it out shakily.

"Good. Again."

Again Kíli did as he was told. A familiar twinge came on his left side, and he did his best not to wince; then a sick feeling arose in him as another memory struck him – one of this twinge, when he couldn't remember how it had come about, and he had told his mother about it. He looked to her uneasily, and then glanced away when he saw the curious look on her face. He took another deep breath and avoided her eye.

"Better?" said Thorin.

Kíli nodded, keeping his eyes fixed anywhere but his uncle and his mother. He still felt absolutely awful, but his lung had distracted him enough where he no longer felt like he was falling apart at the seams. He swallowed and closed his eyes, and Thorin ruffled his hair. When he opened them again, Thorin was back in his seat, and both he and Dís were watching him.

"Fíli was attacked by the same creature that attacked me," he said with a shaky voice. "It said it had attacked a 'yellow one'. I remember it now."

"You are sure about this?" said Dís.

Kíli nodded resolutely. "But no one was there to save him," he said. The thought made him feel sick again. "Gimli rescued me, didn't he?"

"He said that he attacked the creature and pulled you out of the cave," said Thorin.

"But not Fíli," Kíli said, horror rising in him at the thought. "He – he would have been so alone, and that _thing_ had him at its mercy until he couldn't take it anymore – oh, Fee." He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. No wonder Fíli was so far gone. Kíli had only been in its clutches for a few moments, and he was still recovering, days later. Who even knew how long Fíli had borne the same thing? Minutes? Hours? He moaned and dropped his head into his hands.

"We have to go back," he said.

"No," Thorin barked, and Kíli jumped. "Absolutely _not_. You are _never_ going back there."

"But Fíli—"

"We will find some other way, Kíli," said Thorin. "This creature is far too dangerous. There must be another way to solve this."

"I looked in my books that Mr. Balin gave me and I asked Bofur and Bombur – there's _nothing_ about this anywhere," Kíli said. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Maybe he will get better of his own accord," said Thorin.

"That could take weeks, months, years, even, Uncle," said Kíli. "I'm _not_ waiting that long to have my brother back. Not if we don't know if it will even work that way. There has to be _something_ we can do."

"We'll keep looking, Kíli," Thorin said. "I promise you."

"And never give up?" said Kíli.

Thorin smiled. "You should know by now, Kíli," he said, "that your stubborn old uncle never gives up on anything."

* * *

Kíli and Thorin were welcomed into Bofur and Bombur's home with a warm smile and a cheerful greeting, as was customary of their old friend. Bofur bowed his head low to Thorin, and Bombur hurried to put together some food and boil water for coffee.

"To what do I owe this honor, Thorin?" said Bofur, gesturing to a chair at his table. Thorin and Kíli sat, and Kíli folded his arms on the table and dropped his chin on top. Bofur gave him a curious look before turning his attention back to his king.

"Secret business," said Thorin, graciously accepting a plate of biscuits that Bombur pushed in front of him. "Kíli tells me that you know about Fíli."

Bofur's cheerful grin faded, and he nodded gravely. "How is he?" he said.

"No better," said Thorin. "And Kíli here was almost subject to the same fate."

"Blimey, lad, I told you not to go alone!" Bofur said, turning to Kíli.

"I didn't!" said Kíli defensively. "I took Gimli! I just… left him behind."

"You knew about this plan of his?" said Thorin, turning a sharp eye onto Bofur. The old miner quailed under Thorin's gaze, glancing between the king and his nephew.

"I – we talked, Kíli and I," Bofur said. "He wanted to know about fey creatures – he thought that one had gotten to his brother, and I told him that maybe it would fix him up if asked. But I told him not to go alone if he did, Thorin, I swear."

"It's not his fault, Uncle," Kíli cut in. "He was worried for me, and I didn't do what I promised to do. Don't blame Bofur."

"That's very humble of you, Kíli," Thorin muttered sarcastically, but his sharp eye softened, and Bofur relaxed.

"Is there anything else that you can tell us?" said Thorin. "I never put much stock in such creatures – I always accepted their existence, but I never imagined that they would interfere with my own life."

"Kíli, did you see it?" said Bofur.

A surge of fear went through Kíli at the thought, and Thorin rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Kíli took a deep breath and forced back the rising feeling.

"I did," he said simply. He wanted to say more, but he was afraid that his mind would betray him.

"I'm sorry, lad," said Bofur gently. "I didn't think – well, I didn't think at all, it seems. I shouldn't have said those things to you."

Kíli tucked his chin into his chest and rested his forehead on his arms, making a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement. His head was buzzing as he tried to force the memories and the fear away, but he knew it was pointless to try _not_ to think about something. Thorin's hand did not leave his shoulder.

"Are you going to be all right?" Thorin said in a low voice.

"Give me a minute," Kíli said through gritted teeth. His voice came out strained, and Thorin's hand tightened.

"The reason I'm here is to ask for your help, Bofur," said Thorin. "As you are aware, we are keeping Fíli safe in the jail for the time being, but I am running out of people to keep watch over him. If you aren't too busy, I would ask if you would be willing to take a shift when asked. You and Bombur."

"Of course, Thorin," said Bofur seriously. "When do you need me?"

"Balin is with him now, but he can only stay so long," said Thorin. "If you would – in an hour or two, relieve him?"

Bofur nodded. "For how long?" he said.

"How long can you stay?"

"A few hours tonight," Bofur replied. "And a few hours tomorrow."

"I'll let you know when you're needed," Thorin said gravely. "Thank you." He accepted the coffee that Bombur set before him and looked up to the large dwarf. "And you, Bombur?"

"Aye," said Bombur, setting another cup before Kíli with a kindly smile. "I'll stay tomorrow for a while."

Thorin nodded gratefully to the both of them as Bombur set some biscuits before him as well.

"Kíli, have something to eat," Bombur said.

Kíli lifted his head and took the coffee with both hands, drawing it closer to himself. He breathed in the aroma and focused on its warmth, pushing away the cold thoughts that made his hands shake and his heart pound. He looked up at his friend with a halfhearted smile.

"Thank you," he said.

Bombur pushed the biscuits towards him. "Eat," he prompted, and Kíli took one. Finally Thorin's hand left his shoulder, and he focused on his food and his drink, ignoring the worried faces surrounding him.

He could beat this fear. He _would_ beat this fear – and he would save his brother. If he could fix himself, he could fix Fíli, and no one was going to stop him.

* * *

_**Yeah, not much to say here. Prepare yourself for chapter 13!  
**_

_**Please review, as always! Kíli's gonna need your hugs for later...**_


	13. Memories

_**A/N: I've been reading your reviews, and I've noticed a thing. There seems to be a misconception about Fíli's behavior that isn't really your fault, but mine, for not clarifying it - yet. But if you are interested in knowing just how Fíli's mind is working without waiting for all to be revealed (because it'll take a while before that happens) hop over to my blog, wonderingsandwitticisms dot tumblr dot com, and click the link on the left side that says "Fic: Illusions". If you scroll down a bit, there's a post entitled "The "real" Fíli - a view at Illusions" that will show you what's really going on. There are some minor spoilers in it, though so ye be warned!  
**_

_**And now for chapter 13.  
**_

* * *

It took Kíli the better part of the night and the morning to gather the courage to pose his request to Thorin, but finally, he was ready.

He waited for his uncle to return home from the jail in the living room, poring over one of his old books gifted to him by Balin. He flipped the pages absentmindedly; anything he read seemed to leave his head immediately, and he had reread the same section five times before he had just given up and resorted to looking at the pictures. He was bored, and no one would give him anything to do. _Rest. Relax. Recover._ That's all anyone would tell him, and he was sick of it. He needed to _do_ something.

Finally the front door opened, and Kíli shut his book with a _snap_ and looked up hopefully. When Thorin did not appear in the entryway quickly enough for his liking, he threw the book down on the couch and dashed out of the living room into the kitchen.

"Uncle!" he shouted as he rounded the corner.

Thorin started and looked up quickly; he set his wide eyes on his nephew and relaxed.

"Durin's beard, Kíli!" he said in an exasperated tone.

"Sorry, Uncle," Kíli said, fighting a mischievous grin. "I have a question for you."

Thorin sighed and rolled his eyes. "Give me half a moment," he grumbled. "I'm still wearing my boots, for Mahal's sake."

Kíli leaned against the wall and fidgeted, waiting impatiently for Thorin to acknowledge that he was ready to speak. Finally Thorin ambled over to Kíli and leaned against the table, crossing his arms.

"What is it?" he said.

A jolt of nervousness went through Kíli, but he was determined. He lowered his eyes and took in a gulp of air.

"I want to take a shift in watching over Fíli," he said all in one breath.

"No," said Thorin immediately.

Kíli looked up at Thorin, a surge of anger heating his face. "Why not?" he said. "I can't just _sit_ here—"

"Every time you talk to him, it ends in hurt, Kíli," said Thorin. He sighed. "I am trying to _protect_ you – don't you understand that?"

"I know he's going to say cruel things, Uncle," Kíli countered. "I remember that. But I'm ready for it now. I know it's not _him_ saying those things." He lowered his voice. "I just want to help him, Uncle. In any way that I can."

"And how are you going to help him?" Thorin said skeptically.

"I want to talk to him," said Kíli. "I'll tell him stories about growing up. Ask him questions. That's what helped me remember."

"You said yourself that it could take weeks, months, years," said Thorin. "I think it's much more likely that he would threaten and insult you. Kíli, you don't need to go through that again."

"It'll take longer if we don't _try_ something!" Kíli shouted. Mahal, why couldn't he _understand_? "Why aren't you even _trying_? You're just sitting around, waiting for something to happen and we don't even know if anything _will_ – I feel like I'm the only one looking for answers around here!" He paused, watching for Thorin's reaction, but his uncle merely stared at him. "You promised me that you would fix this, Thorin, but I haven't seen you do _anything_ except arrange shifts to watch him as you keep him in jail! What have you even _done_?"

Thorin stared plaintively at his young nephew, seeming to be at a loss for words. He uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on the table behind him, his shoulders sagging. For a few long moments, he said nothing, and the silence hung between them, filled with tension.

"I… I don't know what to do," Thorin admitted finally.

"Then let me talk to him," Kíli said passionately. "Let me be with him – just a couple of hours."

Thorin nodded heavily in concession. "Just for a couple of hours," he said. "Do what you can, Kíli."

Now it was Kíli's turn to be at a loss for words. He had hoped that he would win this argument, but he hadn't imagined that he actually _would_, and especially not so quickly. After stammering for a few moments, he finally squeaked out: "Thank you, Uncle."

Thorin nodded again, bringing one hand up to his brow and rubbing his temples wearily. "Just be on your guard, Kíli," he said. "He's not himself. He's angry and confused, and he's lashing out like a wild animal that's been backed into a corner. You need to keep that in mind. Don't do anything rash." Then he pushed himself away from the table and trudged down the hallway to his room. Kíli watched him go, finally looking away when Thorin's bedroom door shut with a soft _click_.

* * *

The silence was unbearable.

Kíli had wanted to speak to Fíli the moment he relieved Glóin from his shift, but he had found himself unable to speak when he saw the dark look in his brother's eyes. He had never seen Fíli look at him like that before, and it had thrown him off so much that he just said nothing at all. However, the silence did not suit him, and he fidgeted under Fíli's unrelenting glare, feeling more uncomfortable than he ever had in his entire life.

Finally, Fíli spoke.

"Why do you keep coming here?" he said. His voice was soft and gentle, as always, but Kíli could hear the contempt lying beneath the surface. However, he could also sense that Fíli was genuinely curious, and he hoped that that curiosity would lead to true understanding.

"Because I know you're in there somewhere," Kíli said.

Fíli scoffed and looked down. "I don't know who that's supposed to be, but I think it's time you gave up hope," he said.

"Don't say that," Kíli snapped.

Fíli's gaze flicked back up to Kíli. "Do you see anything changing?" he said, his voice suddenly harsh. "Because I don't. You and your people are just going to keep me here forever, aren't you - nothing is going to change, and I'm going to be stuck here with _you_ being _pathetic_ and whimpering about your 'brother'… why don't you people just let me go?"

"But you _are_ my brother," Kíli said. Why couldn't Fíli understand? "Why would I say you are my brother unless you actually are, Fíli? For Mahal's sake, our names _rhyme_!"

"I look nothing like you or your kin," Fíli said. "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not falling for it."

"You have our father's hair, but you have our mother's eyes," Kíli said. Fíli merely stared, and he continued, pulling anything he could think of out of his mind. "You were born five years before me. You're the heir to the throne of Erebor, far over the Misty Mountains – after Thorin, of course, who I know is planning to retake it soon. He'll want you at his side."

"I wouldn't go anywhere with you and your ridiculous kin," Fíli growled. "I'm no heir. I'm—" Suddenly he stopped and looked confused, and Kíli seized that moment.

"You see? You can't remember," he said. "I know how that feels, Fíli. It happened to me, just like it happened to you. I know – I know what you must be thinking, but you have to believe me when I say that everything I am telling you is true."

Fíli suddenly turned around and faced away from Kíli.

"Leave me alone," he muttered, barely loud enough for Kíli to hear.

"Fíli, please, you have to _try_ to remember," Kíli pleaded.

"Don't you think I've tried?" Fíli shouted, whirling back around with a malicious scowl upon his face. "I have _tried_ and _tried,_ and I remember _nothing!_ Don't you think that if I knew you, I'd at least remember you - just a little bit? Maybe you'd be familiar, or I'd have some vague inclination that this was right? But there is _nothing_! And what kind of family locks up their kin for days in a jail cell? I don't know what games you're trying to play with me, but I will not fall prey to your lies! So _shut up_ and _leave me alone_!"

Kíli snapped his jaw shut and stood suddenly, almost knocking over the chair in his haste to move away from the cell. He faced the opposite wall and crossed his arms, biting his lip and taking a deep breath. _Don't let it get to you,_ he told himself. _He's not himself. He doesn't know what he's saying._

_But he doesn't remember me at _all_,_ said another part of his mind. _At least I knew that I _should_ know who people are…_ he looked up at the ceiling and fought the tears that threatened to spill. He felt hopeless all over again, but he couldn't show weakness in front of Fíli. He would only laugh and call him _pathetic_ again.

Slowly Kíli turned around and trudged back over to the chair. He sat down silently and bowed his head, avoiding his brother's eye, but he could feel Fíli looking at him. He said nothing for a long time, allowing silence to fall between them once again.

Eventually Kíli drew up the courage to speak again, and he looked up to his brother. Fíli was still staring at him; Kíli wondered if he had ever stopped.

"You don't remember anything at all?" he said.

Fíli rolled his eyes and groaned. "Will you just _give it up_?" he said.

"Nothing?" Kíli prompted. "Absolutely nothing?"

"I think I would have remembered you by now if there was anything to remember," Fíli snapped. "Are you always this irritating?"

Kíli searched his mind for something, some memory – something strong. Something he could prove. Then an idea occurred to him.

"When you were thirty, I tried to teach you how to use a bow," he started. "Do you remember that?"

Fíli lay back on his pallet and covered his eyes with his hands, groaning. "No," he said, his voice resigned.

"I was stupid," Kíli said. "I – I stood in your way and I told you to shoot, and you missed, and you got me with the arrow instead."

Fíli sat up then and looked at Kíli with a curious glint in his eyes, but he remained silent. Kíli's heart swelled, and he continued.

"You wouldn't leave my side," he said. "I mean, you had to, at first, to get Uncle and Óin, but after that – not for a moment. You stayed with me through everything that you could. When the wound got infected… when I was in a coma… when I forgot how to talk, you encouraged me. And when I caught pneumonia, you stayed by my side until Uncle made you leave – but you were so worried." He looked down and took a deep breath. Fíli's expression was unreadable as he stared.

"I felt bad about that," he said. "How worried you were for me. I felt like it was all my fault, but you would only blame yourself. And I gave up." Kíli's hands curled into fists. "I gave up, because I forgot. I forgot how much we need each other, Fíli. But you didn't let me die. You wouldn't."

Fíli interrupted then, his face twisted into the strangest expression, but he kept his eyes downcast.

"I – I think I remember," he said simply.

Kíli's heart leapt, and he stared at Fíli with wide eyes.

"Fíli, it's me," he said excitedly. "You know it's me, don't you?"

"Kíli…" Fíli said, his voice cracking. He looked up at his brother, his dark eyes shining. "Kíli, I don't know – I'm so confused—"

"It's all right, Fíli – it's all right," Kíli said, his heart pounding. An enormous grin began to grow on his face, and he stood and leaned against the bars. "What can you remember?"

"I – I remember… I don't know." He shook his head. "I – the arrow…"

"That's right," Kíli said. "You can remember it now, can't you?"

"Help," Fíli whispered, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. Kíli fumbled for the key ring on his belt and unlocked the cell door. He dove to his knees next to Fíli and rested his hands on his shoulders.

"Hey, look at me," Kíli said. "Look at me. You can do this."

Fíli met his gaze, a strange look in his eyes. He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Kíli," he said again, and Kíli smiled as tears formed in his eyes. Finally – _finally_ – he was getting his brother back. If he remembered nothing else, at least he remembered his brother, and at the moment, that was enough. They could work on the rest later. He stood and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said. "I'll stay with you. I'll help you, Fíli."

Fíli took his hand, and Kíli pulled him to his feet and immediately into a hug. He clung tightly to his older brother, and Fíli hugged him back – but something was off. Fíli seemed unsure, holding his little brother cautiously, and Kíli frowned.

"It's all right, Fee," he said, pulling away. "We'll work out the—"

Then a fist collided with the side of his head.

Kíli stumbled back with a shout, his vision swimming and lights flashing from somewhere. He shook his head and looked at Fíli, confusion coursing through his mind.

"Fíli, what on earth—"

Fíli punched him again, and the force sent Kíli to the floor, clutching his head with a groan. He felt nauseous, and he gagged. When nothing came up, he looked up at the hazy form of his brother just in time to see his foot coming at him in a kick. He rolled and caught it between his shoulder blades, and he shouted out in pain.

"Gullible," Fíli snarled, kicking him again. "So gullible. Absolutely pathetic."

"F-Fíli…" Kíli moaned hoarsely. "Fíli, stop. Don't do this."

"Don't follow me," Fíli said, and then he ran out the open door of the cell and out of the jail.

Kíli dropped his forehead into the dirt and screamed. He was so frustrated – so filled with abject betrayal, but he forced back the tears that came and pushed himself to his feet. Fíli couldn't get away. He was _not_ going to lose his brother again – especially not like this. He stumbled and slammed into the bars, and a sob escaped him; but he pushed onward, dashing out of the jail and looking around for Fíli.

He spotted him up ahead, running towards the open field to the north of town, and he ran after him. _Stupid, stupid, gullible,_ he scolded himself over and over as he ran, his balance slowly returning to him. Fíli was far ahead, but Kíli was the faster runner, and he slowly gained on him. Then Fíli rounded a copse of trees, and Kíli couldn't see him anymore. He took a deep breath, ignoring the growing pain in his side, and ran hard.

When he rounded the copse, he stopped for a moment and looked around. Fíli was nowhere to be seen. He leaned over and panted, clutching his left side, and thought about where Fíli would possibly go.

_If he's anything like I was, he'll have no clue where he is,_ he thought. _What would I do?_ Then the bubbling of the creek caught up to his ears, and the thought struck him – maybe Fíli would try to follow the creek north, away from town. He swallowed and started off, searching for the telltale sign of his brother's blond hair.

Nothing. Fíli was just gone. He stopped again by the side of the creek to catch his breath. His side was killing him now, like it hadn't in years. Apparently, his near-drowning the week before was still affecting him; he looked at the running waters beside him warily and sidestepped away.

Suddenly he was on the ground and seeing stars, and his head was pounding; he looked up, and the blurry form of his brother stood over him.

"I _told_ you not to follow me," Fíli growled. "You never listen, do you? Stubborn idiot! I can't _stand_ you!"

"Fíli, please," Kíli begged. He couldn't fight back. Not against Fíli. He wouldn't.

"Well, you're not going to follow me anymore," Fíli said, and he kicked Kíli in the side of the head. Kíli's vision went black for a few moments and groaned, fighting for consciousness; he felt Fíli grabbing his wrists, but he was too dizzy to fight. Fíli dragged him towards the water's edge, and then they were in the water. Panic filled Kíli as he realized what was happening, and he began to struggle, but Fíli was stronger – and at the moment, far more physically stable. He flipped Kíli over and grabbed the back of his neck, plunging his face into the water.

Kíli struggled against Fíli's grip with manic frenzy, but he could not escape. Fíli was straddling him now, keeping his body in the water, and Kíli could not lift his head. He gulped in water, and it burned down his windpipe. He gagged and his body jerked, but Fíli did not relent, holding him down with strong hands.

_Fíli's gone_, Kíli thought then. _He's completely gone. He's going to kill me._

So this was the end of his life. He was going to die at the hands of his brother – his brother who couldn't even remember him, who hated him now, who wanted him to die. If this was all that he had left… _I don't want to do this anymore._ This was all his fault, and he was reaping the consequences. Well, this was what he would get. He deserved this.

Kíli stopped struggling.

Fíli's hands still held him under the water, and he felt a strange sort of peace come over him as he accepted his lot. He thought of when he was younger – when he was a child and Fíli would let him ride on his shoulders, and they would both fall and get in trouble for almost killing each other. When Fíli would read him stories before bed, and let him snuggle into his side like a puppy before he fell asleep. When he he was being bullied and Fíli stood up for him and encouraged him to stand tall, reminding him that he was a prince, not a commoner. When Fíli had saved his life, shooting a charging wolf, even though he never wanted to use a bow again. _That_ was his Fíli. He would remember his brother like that – when he went to the halls of his fathers, he would tell them how _good_, how _noble_ Fíli was, how they would be so excited to meet him one day. He would not remember this Fíli that tried to kill him now.

He gulped in more water and felt the oily tendrils of darkness filter into his mind – he had experienced this before, years ago, and he had forced it away for Fíli. But if this was what Fíli wanted now, then he wouldn't fight it this time.

Then the darkness overtook him, and he remembered no more.

* * *

_**Yep, you all hate me now. This is not the end of the fic.  
**_

_**I'd love if you all went to my awesome friend Mhyin's blog (mhyin dot tumblr dot com) and checked out her lovely illustrations of Illusions. There's a link on the left side that says "fanfiction art" that will show just her fanfic illustrations, but I encourage you to look at all of her art, because she is just utterly fantastic.**_

_**In the meantime, scream at me in the review box below. You know you want to.**_


	14. Breathe

_**A/N: The chapter you've all been waiting for is here! Special thanks to my awesome friend Nalbal for being my beta for this chapter. Without her, this would be a lot more suckish. Also, special blame goes to my other awesome friend Mhyin for some of the angsty ideas in this chapter. You can blame her for your pain. Well, part of it. I am the one writing this fic, after all. Also if you haven't checked out her blog (mhyin dot tumblr dot com) seriously go do it because her illustrations of this fic (and other fics) are amazing. I mean, look at the cover of this fic. That was her. GO LOOK.**_

_**I almost forgot to mention an important thing. This chapter references Race Against Time. A lot. So if you haven't read that, you may be confused. Fair warning!**_

* * *

The next thing Kíli knew was that he couldn't breathe.

Water shot from his lungs and burned through his windpipe, and he was coughing, he couldn't stop coughing, and his whole body ached. How was there so much water in his lungs? He gagged, and someone flipped him over and supported him as he vomited. When he had finished, he returned to coughing, the water still burning, but coming up slower now.

Everything hurt.

"Kíli, can you hear me?" called a panicked voice out of the darkness. Someone was holding him, someone with strong arms, but he couldn't place it. He tried to take in a breath, but he just coughed again. Water and spittle leaked down his chin, and his mouth hung open loosely. Finally he was able to take in a breath, and he sucked in a lungful of air.

His chest exploded in pain.

Kíli cried out weakly, incapable of doing more. The world was still dark, and the only thing he was aware of was pure agony and a terrifying inability to breathe. His fingers curled around fabric, and he clutched it weakly, wheezing painfully. The person holding him turned him over onto his back and rested a hand on his brow.

"Kíli, are you awake? Can you open your eyes?"

Kíli groaned between wheezes and forced his eyes open just enough to catch a hazy glimpse of Thorin leaning over him, his face showing a raw fear that Kíli had never seen before. He let his eyes close again – keeping them open was too exhausting. His lungs hurt _so_ much…

"Let me go!" cried another voice, and Kíli opened his eyes again, searching for it. His eyes rolled in his head, and he coughed again; he tried to push himself up, but his limbs would not obey, and he stayed in place.

"Don't try to get up," Thorin said. "You almost died – don't push yourself."

Suddenly the memory of what had happened came rushing back. Fíli beating him, holding him under the water – then accepting his fate and allowing himself to die. But he hadn't died – somehow, he was still alive, though every breath felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. He moaned despondently before losing himself to a harsh bout of coughing. His insides were on fire; the last time he had felt this much pain, he was in bed, on the verge of death with pneumonia, and it was not a feeling that he had ever wished to repeat.

"Thorin, I can't hold him back much longer!" called a distinct and familiar voice. _Bofur._ Thorin suddenly left his side, and he was alone in the grass, gasping. He turned his head to watch his uncle, who made his way towards Fíli being held clumsily by Bofur.

"Don't you _dare_ move!" Thorin roared, and Kíli started at the force of his voice. Fíli started, too, and he stopped struggling against Bofur's grip and stared at his uncle.

"Have you absolutely no humanity?" Thorin continued, his voice losing none of its volume or power. "You would resort to assault? To _murder_? You would attempt to kill your own kin?"

"He's not my kin!" Fíli shouted, pulling forward, but Bofur still held him.

"Take him back to the jail!" Thorin rumbled dangerously. "Do whatever you need to do to get him there – knock him out if you have to. But make sure he gets there and _stays_ there!"

"Aye, Thorin," said Bofur, his normally cheery face drawn and weary. He pulled at Fíli, but Fíli pulled back viciously, throwing Bofur off balance. He recovered quickly and regained his hold on the blond before he slipped away, and Fíli growled. Thorin started towards him, then stopped, turning to look back at Kíli; the concern radiating from his expression was almost tangible.

"Dwalin! Glóin!" Thorin called then, and Kíli faintly heard the two dwarves call back. Soon their forms emerged from the nearby wood, and they dashed towards the scene before them.

"Dwalin, with Bofur," Thorin ordered. "Get Fíli to the jail and for _Mahal's_ sake, don't let him get away. Glóin, get your brother and meet me at my house. We need him immediately."

Dwalin and Glóin nodded, both of their gazes straying to where Kíli lay wheezing in the grass. Then they did as they were told, Glóin dashing off and Dwalin taking over for Bofur in keeping Fíli compliant. He growled something that Kíli could not hear in Fíli's ear; suddenly Fíli went pale and stopped fighting, and Dwalin and Bofur led him away between them. Thorin turned back to his youngest nephew, but for a moment, his gaze was unfocused, and he stared out into nothing; the broken, betrayed look on his face was so unrestrained, so acute, that for a moment, Kíli was afraid. He didn't know why, but that look frightened him in a way he had never felt before.

Then the expression disappeared, and Thorin set his eyes on Kíli. He ran over and knelt at his side.

"You're going to be all right," he said, his voice wavering. "I've got you, my boy. How's your breathing?"

Kíli shook his head and wheezed. He raised his hands weakly to sign. _I can't breathe._

"Do you think you can walk?"

Kíli tried lifting his head, and the world spun around him. He dropped back into the grass and groaned, shaking his head.

Thorin wasted no time in scooping Kíli into his arms; he held him close to his chest and ran clumsily with his burden. Kíli tried not to think about the scorching fire in his lungs as he was bounced along, but every breath was agony, and he wished that the pain would just stop.

He wished everything would stop.

* * *

Kíli was frozen to the spot.

A wolf prowled a little distance away, far too close for comfort, eyeing Fíli and Kíli hungrily. _I've done it now,_ Kíli thought. _It knows I can't run. I'm wolf food._

"What is it?" Fíli said, following Kíli's gaze over his shoulder and stiffening as he saw what Kíli saw.

"It's fine," Kíli whispered, trying to sound calm and failing miserably. "It's all right... right? It hasn't seen us."

"Shut up," Fíli hissed. "It's looking straight at us. Of course it's seen us." He stepped in front of his little brother, pushing the brunet firmly behind him. Kíli's bow dangled loosely from his fingers.

"Shoot it," Kíli whispered frantically. He knew Fíli wouldn't want to, but they didn't have a choice. In his condition, there was no way that Kíli could handle a bow. His fingers twitched.

Immediately Fíli's head began to shake violently, and Kíli reached for his arm and squeezed. It was supposed to be reassuring, but it seemed desperate even to Kíli.

"Fíli, I can't shoot," he said, pushing down his frustration. He knew Fíli was scared, and it would be no good to overwhelm him. "You're going to have to do it. It's going to come after us. Look at it."

Fíli shook his head again, and Kíli held back a groan. They were going to _die_ - the wolf was prowling closer now. Kíli wished he could use his own bow; if he weren't so badly injured, the wolf would be dead by now. Either Fíli overcame this fear or they were both going to die at the jaws of this wolf. Or, at least, Kíli was. There was no way he could outrun the beast with his injury.

"Fíli, don't be foolish! I'm fine. I'm back here. Now _use the bow._"

Suddenly Fíli's demeanor changed; he straightened, and his head cocked to one side loosely.

"All right," Fíli said, shrugging off Kíli's hand. "All right, I will." Slowly he raised the bow and fitted it with an arrow, but he did not aim at the wolf. He turned, slowly, until the arrow was pointed at Kíli.

"Fíli, what are you _doing_?" Kíli cried, dodging out of the way, but Fíli adjusted his aim to point at his brother again. Kíli's heart was thumping in his ears loudly, and he felt cold with fear.

Fíli said nothing; his eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Kíli backed away, hands raised in surrender. He dared to glance past Fíli to the wolf, but it was gone. The only threat now was one that he never would have guessed and never would have believed. Tears built in his eyes, and he gasped harshly in terror.

"Please, Fíli, stop this," he begged.

"_Pathetic_," Fíli murmured, and then he released the arrow.

Kíli awoke with a panicked gasp, and instantly piercing pain in his left side followed. He let out a strangled cry and his arms flailed, his hands coming in contact with a body, and instinctively he latched on, his fingers curling into the fabric of someone's shirt. Someone else's hands pulled his fingers away, and whoever was carrying him laid him down on something soft - a bed. _His_ bed. He wheezed harshly, every breath like a dagger to his chest.

"It's all right, Kíli!" said a deep voice. Thorin's voice. "You're safe. We've got you. We've got you."

He was panicking. Kíli knew he was panicking, but that awareness did nothing to stop it from happening. He gasped again, and his chest flooded with pain that overwhelmed his other senses. Blindly he reached out for someone, anyone - someone to hold on to. He was dying - he knew he was dying. Was he dying? Memories and sensations mixed and mingled, leaving Kíli confused. He was cold, so cold; his teeth chattered and his body trembled, and the constant stabbing pain in his chest left him breathless.

"Get him out of those wet clothes and under the covers," ordered a familiar voice that Kíli recognized as Óin. _Wet clothes?_ When had he gotten wet? He had been in bed for weeks, hadn't he? Hands pulled at him, peeling off his tunic and trousers and undergarments, and blankets were hastily pulled over him. Vaguely Kíli was aware that he should be mortified by this treatment, but his thoughts were in such a disarray that he couldn't bring himself to care. He struggled to remember what was going on around him through the fog of pain and confusion.

His left side hurt terribly - _so_ terribly. In fact, his entire chest burned, and Kíli remembered this pain. Pneumonia - he had pneumonia, didn't he? He was dying. No, he _had_ died, and then he had woken up. Fíli had been so angry that he would surrender - he had shouted at him. _How many times do I have to watch you die, Kíli? How many times do I have to watch you give up and hope that someone is there to keep you alive? Tell me now, just so I know when I should give up on _you_._

"F-Fíli," Kíli croaked.

"Not now, Kíli. Just relax," said Thorin.

"Where?" Kíli said. Full sentences took too much breath.

"Where what?" Thorin said, sitting down on the bed.

"Where's... Fíli?" he said. _Mahal_, he hated this pain. He wanted Fíli by his side. He needed to apologize. Didn't he need to apologize? He wasn't sure.

"He's not coming anywhere near you," Thorin said bitterly.

Confused, Kíli pulled his hands out from under the blanket to sign in Iglishmêk.

_ Why?_

"Thorin, I need to look him over," said Óin impatiently. "He's having far too much trouble breathing, even given the circumstances."

"Don't you remember?" Thorin said, ignoring Óin and studying Kíli's face worriedly.

Kíli stared at his uncle and searched his jumbled thoughts for the answer. What _did_ he remember? He remembered pain in his side from the arrow wound... everything had gone wrong since then. He had caught pneumonia, and now he was dying. Fíli had driven himself to sickness with worry and guilt...

He raised his hands shakily to sign – breathing was still too difficult – and then stopped, staring at his left hand; his fingers curled and twitched and didn't easily obey the signals he sent to them. Alarmed, he looked up at Thorin, who in turn got up immediately to let Óin sit at the bedside. He took Kíli's left hand and examined it carefully, and then pulled out a pin and poked the tips of Kíli's fingers, nodding when his patient hissed and pulled back.

"Make a fist," he said.

Kíli curled his fingers into a fist with a small amount of difficulty, and Óin nodded again.

"Now stretch out your fingers."

Kíli did as he was told, grunting as his fingers wavered instead of stretching out completely, but Óin seemed satisfied.

"Probably temporary," he assessed. "But I'll keep an eye on it." He gave Kíli back his hand, and Kíli looked to Thorin worriedly.

_Fíli's sick,_ he signed.

"That's one way of putting it," Thorin growled.

What on earth was Thorin talking about? Where was Fíli?

_ I need to tell him I'm sorry,_ Kíli signed.

"Thorin, talk to him later," Óin said in a warning tone.

Thorin reluctantly stepped back towards the door, looking at his nephew with the most curious look. Kíli stared back at his uncle.

"Out," Óin ordered. "I'll call you back in after."

With one last glance, Thorin left the room, and Kíli and Óin were alone.

"Look at me, lad," Óin said. "Tell me what is going on. Where does it hurt?"

Kíli gave Óin an incredulous look and pulled down the sheets to his waist. He looked down at his arrow-wound, and then paused; there were no bandages, and the wound was long-since healed. Only a white scar remained.

"Kíli, for Mahal's sake," said Óin in utter shock. "Why wouldn't you tell me it still bothered you?"

Kíli barely heard Óin's rebuke as he stared down at his scar. His confused thoughts came together then, and he felt a cold chill of horror sweep through his entire body. He wasn't dying of pneumonia. That was thirty-seven years ago. His dream had swept him into the past, and now he realized what he had just done. Thirty-seven years of secrets crumbled away in an instant, but the horror was short-lived. A second icy chill swept through him as another realization assaulted his mind.

_ Fíli tried to kill me._

Kíli was unpleasantly forced back into the present as he remembered Fíli holding him down in the water, _drowning_ him, telling him _you're not going to follow me anymore_. He remembered giving in and allowing himself to drown. If he had to live in a world without Fíli, he would rather not live at all. But he was alive – still alive – and Fíli was gone forever. Fíli _hated_ him. Fíli wanted him _dead._

Kíli wanted to be dead.

Silent tears fell down Kíli's cheeks, and he fell limp, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the old apothecary. He didn't care anymore. The pain could continue forever, and he wouldn't care. He could lose his eyesight and his hearing and his ability to speak, and he wouldn't care. The world could burn down around him, and it wouldn't matter in the slightest. Kíli had already lost everything. Kíli had already lost Fíli.

"No, no, no, stay with me," Óin said, pulling Kíli's face towards him. "Look at me. This is _important._"

Kíli opened his eyes and stared at Óin morosely, but he said nothing. The only sound he made was the labored wheezing that meant he was regrettably still alive. Óin looked at him for a moment, tight-lipped, but Kíli simply closed his eyes again. A moment later his left eyelid was being pulled open, and Óin was staring into it; then he did the same with his right. Kíli suffered the indignity with indifference, letting Óin do as he wished. He didn't care anymore. Fingers were pressed lightly to the side of his head, and he hissed involuntarily as the pressure stung.

"The whole right side of your face is black and blue, lad," Óin said. "How many times did he hit you?"

Kíli didn't want to answer. He didn't want to do anything, but Óin pressed again: "How many times, Kíli?"

With reluctance Kíli slowly signed back, forcing his left hand to work as well as he could. _Punched, three. Kicked, once._

Óin made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat and took Kíli's head in his hands, studying the right side closely. His rough thumb brushed an especially sensitive spot, and Kíli hissed again; Óin pulled his thumb away, revealing a flash of bright red against his skin. Quickly the grey dwarf reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle and a roll of cloth and set to work, applying slave to his patient's head and then wrapping it in the long bandage. Kíli closed his eyes as Óin worked and wished for sleep to come, but infuriatingly, it eluded him. Óin finally set his head back down on the pillow and snapped his fingers close to Kíli's nose; the brunet opened his eyes begrudgingly.

"I'm going to ask you some questions that I need you to answer," he said kindly. "First off. What is your name?"

Kíli merely glared and said nothing. He wasn't going to play these games. He didn't _care_ anymore.

"Your name," Óin prompted again, but still Kíli was silent. Óin sighed and frowned at his patient; then, seeming to give up for the time being, he turned his attention to Kíli's torso. Lightly he pressed on each of Kíli's ribs, searching for fractures. He went up the right side without incident, then started down the left. With a furtive glance at the young dwarf, he pressed on the scar over his ribs, and pain lanced through Kíli's side and cut off his ability to breathe. Kíli lifted his knees instinctively and struggled to pull in any air at all, but he was stuck. He smacked Óin's hand away and covered the spot with his hand, rolling onto his side away from the old dwarf and gasping painfully.

"You could have told me," Óin said sadly. "I'd have helped you, had I known."

Kíli ignored him and pressed his wrist into his bandaged forehead. _I don't care I don't care I don't care,_ he thought. _Go away._

He heard Óin's footsteps leaving the room, and for a moment, all was silent; then he heard Óin speaking in the kitchen to Thorin and Dís.

"He'll live," Óin started. "Definitely a concussion, but he won't speak to me, so I can't determine how bad it is. He's having difficulty moving his left hand, as you saw, Thorin – probably related to his head injury. I think he was confused when he first awoke… he seemed to think he was still a young lad, suffering from pneumonia. He knows where he is now." He paused. "Moreover, I believe the water in his lungs damaged his breathing and irritated his arrow-wound. He seemed to be aware of it – did either of you know if it had been bothering him?"

_No no no no no,_ Kíli screamed in his head. _They can't know._ But then another thought occurred to him – he had been keeping this secret for so long to protect _Fíli_, not them. Fíli was the one who had shot him. Kíli didn't blame him for the accident, but he knew that Fíli would never stop blaming himself, and he would be completely crippled by the guilt if he knew that it still bothered him. But now Fíli was gone, and he had no reason to hide anymore. Who cared if Thorin and Dís knew? Fíli didn't even remember doing it now.

"I had a suspicion," Thorin said, much to Kíli's surprise. "I didn't want to believe it – and I wanted to protect Fíli… but after he almost drowned last week, I could tell something more was going on."

"He told me that it hurt when he couldn't remember anything," Dís added. "He said it was a sharp pain."

"And neither of you thought to tell me?" Óin scolded.

"He wouldn't tell us if we confronted him about it," Thorin countered. "What were we to do?"

It was true. If they had asked, Kíli would have completely denied it.

Óin sighed. "I'm going to mix something for him to drink," he said. "See if you can get him to talk to you. I need to know how bad that concussion is."

Kíli cringed as he heard his mother and his uncle enter the bedroom. He lay still, ignoring them, as Thorin sat down on the bed behind him and Dís took the space in front of him. Gentle but calloused hands pulled his arm away from his forehead, and then Dís's hand was gently stroking the unbruised side of his face.

"Kíli, open your eyes," she said softly.

Slowly Kíli obeyed, raising his gaze to meet his mother's. Her expression quickly became alarmed as she looked into Kíli's eyes, and she glanced up at Thorin briefly. Then her gaze returned to her son, and she put on an insincere smile.

"My love, we need to know how bad your head is," Dís said. "You don't have to speak if you don't want to. You can use Iglishmêk if it hurts to talk. Take your time."

So there was no getting out of this. Kíli nodded his head lightly.

"Tell us your name."

Kíli pulled his right hand away from his ribs and signed his name, avoiding using his left hand as much as he could manage. _Kíli._

"Can you tell me what my name is?"

_Dís,_ Kíli signed.

"And your uncle?"

Kíli rolled his eyes and signed _Thorin_, throwing in _Oakenshield_ for good measure.

"How old are you?"

For a moment, Kíli was confused, and he furrowed his brow; then he remembered and signed _sixty-two_.

"Hm," Dís said, eyeing him skeptically. Kíli closed his eyes. He was done with questions, and he wanted everyone to go away.

"Tell us what happened," said Thorin.

"Thorin!" Dís warned.

"You're supposed to ask when someone has a concussion," Thorin said pointedly. "Now – please, tell us what happened."

"No," Kíli said. He didn't _want_ to remember.

"Kíli, you need to talk to us," Thorin said. "This is important."

Kíli buried his face into Dís's leg and moaned despondently, but his mother did not comfort him. Instead, she pulled him into a sitting position, setting up pillows behind him, and looked at him expectantly. Kíli looked at his kin stonily and said nothing.

"I'll tell you what _we_ know," Thorin said. "I sent Bofur in early because I had a bad feeling… and I was right. He came and got me immediately when he discovered that you both were gone, and I called together whoever I could get – only Dwalin and Glóin, as it turned out. We split up and went on a search, and found you…" Thorin's voice broke, and he looked down. "Bofur pulled Fíli off of you. I thought you were dead," Thorin said. "You weren't breathing."

Kíli stared at Thorin, muted emotions stirring in his heart. _I don't care anymore I don't care anymore,_ he said to himself, but he knew it wasn't true. It hurt, and he couldn't stop that.

"Now fill in the blanks," Thorin said. "Please. For your sake and for ours."

Kíli sank into the pillows behind him and avoided looking at his uncle and his mother. "Kíli, please talk to us," Thorin pleaded.

Kíli glared at him.

"And then we'll leave you alone," Dís added.

Kíli acquiesed reluctantly and began to sign with some difficulty. He would keep it short – then they would leave him alone, and he could go back to trying not to exist.

_He tricked me,_ he began. _He said he remembered me and he didn't. He beat me and ran away, and I followed him to the creek. Then he beat me again and pulled me into the creek._

Kíli signed flatly, reporting the events without emotion. He was too tired and in too much pain to care anymore; in that moment, he decided to push the anguish away and allow numbness to overtake his heart. Thorin and Dís watched him warily, their blue eyes matching in dismay and alarm at Kíli's demeanor. When he had finished, they exchanged glances, and Kíli could sense what they were thinking. They had never seen him like this before; he had never been like this before. He had never been without Fíli before, and numbness felt like his only choice, since death did not seem to be an option.

Óin entered the room then with a mug in his hand and held it out for Kíli to take. Kíli eyed it warily, raising an eyebrow at the old dwarf. Anything made by him tended to taste awful, and he would rather not if he could get away with it.

"It's tea," Óin said. "A few herbs to ease your breathing, and a painkiller for good measure. Don't worry, it's tasteless."

_For once._ Kíli reached out for the mug and drank, and to his surprise, the tea wasn't horrible. It didn't taste delicious, but it wasn't that bad, either. He avoided the eyes boring into him and finished it quickly, then handed the mug back to Óin, who smiled and set it down on the bedside table. Already his breathing was easier, though his lungs still burned and his left side still throbbed with piercing pain; he took a few experimental breaths, wincing when he reached his pain threshhold.

"Take it easy, Kíli," Óin said. "Stay in bed and rest." He looked at Kíli with narrowed eyes, as if he could see the numbness overtaking the young dwarf, and Kíli shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "One of you should stay with him," he continued. "Wake him every few hours and ask him questions to make sure the concussion isn't getting worse."

Dís nodded gratefully to her cousin. "Thank you, Óin," she said. "We'll make sure he is taken care of."

"Please call for me if anything changes," Óin said, chancing a look at Kíli, who was startled to see an actual glint of worry in the typically phlegmatic dwarf's eyes. Then he dipped his head towards his kin and left the room.

"I'll stay with him for now," Dís said to Thorin. Her brother nodded and stood, rubbing his beard and looking at his nephew dolefully. He trudged out of the room slowly and closed the door behind him.

"You heard Óin, my love," Dís said, laying a hand on Kíli's arm. "Just rest for now. I'll be here."

Kíli gave his mother a melancholy look, and then he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, irritated. He wanted to be _alone._ He wanted to lie down and – well, he didn't know what he wanted to do. He wanted everything to stop, he supposed, but that was impossible. Whether or not Fíli was at his side, the world went on, and he had to go on with it.

The only problem was he didn't know how.

* * *

_**Okay, so here's the deal. I'll try to write the next chapter as soon as I can, but it's quite possible that it might take a while to get out. I am moving to a new apartment on Friday, and then the following Wednesday through Monday I'll be traveling to New York to visit my family. So I'll be very busy. But if I get any spare time, I'll certainly be writing!**_

_**Until then, leave a review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you would like to see next! Send Kili some hugs, too. He needs them.**_


	15. Perspectives

_**A/N: I'm alive! I've seen your PMs if you sent me one, and I promise I'll get to them soon.**_

_**This is not... a real chapter. Like, it is, but it isn't. This is a side piece entitled "Perspectives", but I wanted you all to see it and I didn't want anyone to miss it, so I'm posting it as a chapter instead of a separate piece like I did with Fighting the Darkness.  
**_

_**What we've got here is... perspectives. I needed to do this for myself, to get into the characters' heads and see what's going on in there, so I can progress with the story more easily. I started with Thorin, then wrote Dís, then Fíli. I didn't do Kíli because we've been in his head from the get-go, and we'll return to him in the next chapter.**_

_**I hope you get some good insight! I'm kind of torn about Fíli's because it reveals some things I didn't want to reveal until later, but that's fine. You can have them now. It'll help you make sense of things, I think.**_

* * *

**Thorin**

Thorin was lost.

Loss was not new to Thorin – he had lost many that he held dear. His father, Thrain. His grandfather, Thror. His brother, Frerin. Countless friends and kin in the sack of Erebor, wandering in the wilderness, and everything that unfolded thereafter. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could compare to the loss of the lights of his life – his sun and his moon – his Fíli and his Kíli.

Betrayal burned hot, burning, scalding through Thorin's veins. He knew that Fíli didn't know who he was, that he was afraid and angry, but he could not stop the flood of betrayal that throbbed in his head and made his hands shake when he dwelt upon it for too long. The _treason,_ the _treachery_ that Fíli had committed – Thorin could not even wrap his mind around it. The one person who had vowed to protect Kíli with his life had been the one to nearly bring about his demise. Never, in all the ages of Middle-Earth, would Thorin have thought such a thing possible. Fíli was stalwart and steadfast, always loyal and always dependable. He was a rock, never swaying from the path that Thorin laid out for him. But no longer. His sun – his golden-haired boy with eyes the color of the sky – was gone, and a dark-eyed monster had taken his place.

And Kíli knew it. His young nephew, so full of vibrant joy in the darkest of times, had given up. He had said next to nothing, but Thorin could see it in his eyes. The light had died. Kíli knew what Thorin had been trying to ignore – Fíli was gone, and there was little hope of bringing him back. Whatever had happened out there in that cave seemed to be permanent, and Kíli knew it. He had held on to hope for so long, and now his faith had been completely and utterly destroyed, leaving nothing but a broken shell where a bright light once had been. Fíli had taken any and all hope with him into the creek, and nothing had come back out.

Thorin hated what he saw in his nephews' eyes. He hated the anger and hatred that burned in Fíli's unnaturally dark gaze. He hated the dead, lost look that shadowed Kíli's face. Fíli and Kíli were still with him in body, but in spirit he had lost them both – and that was what hurt the most. He could see them, hear them, touch them, smell them, but still they were not there. They were lost, and without them, Thorin had been deprived of the light of his life. He felt more lost himself than he ever had, even in the years following the sack of Erebor or the Battle of Azanulbizar. The sun and the moon were gone, and the stars were veiled from his sight; there was nothing left for Thorin in the dark and weary land.

For the first time his long life, Thorin did not know what to do.

* * *

**Dís**

Never had Dís thought that it would come to this.

Fíli was her golden boy, whose long blond waves reminded her every day of the husband she had lost. In the weeks and months following his death, she had often sneaked into Fíli and Kíli's bedroom in the night hours as they slept and stroked that beautiful hair, weeping. Fíli would never wake, heavy sleeper as he was, but sometimes her quiet sniffles would wake Kíli. He would lift his unruly mop of hair and look up at his mother with impossibly wide brown eyes that seemed identical to her husband's, and Dís would weep all the more; then the toddler would untangle himself from his brother's arms and snuggle up in Dís's lap, wrapping his tiny arms as far as he could around her torso. There he would fall asleep again, his head resting on her bosom, and she would smile through her tears and kiss his dark little head.

Those nights were more precious to her than gold. Through all the hurt and loss she had endured, she had her two boys, her promises of joy in dark times, and she had thought that nothing could have stolen that from her.

But she had been wrong.

When Kíli had brought Fíli back unconscious, fear had ravaged Dís's heart. Her entire run home after her encounter with Gimli had been a terrible storm of _what-if_s that shook her to the core. She would not lose her golden boy, her eldest, so strong and proud, yet gentle and humble. Not then. Not ever. And then to learn of his condition when she came home – it had almost been too much. Fíli's screams had pierced her heart and left it open and bleeding. She had cried for a long time in Thorin's strong arms as he held her close and stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head and whispering promises. _We will fix this. We will solve this. Do not despair, Sister._

She had held on to that promise, but things had only gotten worse. Fíli had not recovered. He was frightened and alone, and he was lashing out – but there was something darker, more sinister beneath that, and it frightened her. She had seen the fear in Thorin's eyes, and she knew that he understood the same. She hated seeing her firstborn in a jail cell, his shining braids dirty and disheveled, and a snarl upon his fair face. He was hiding his fear, she knew; Fíli couldn't hide the tear tracks on his face and the way he held his pillow while he slept. She longed to gather him in her arms and hold him tight, to tell him _it's all right; we will solve this_, but he would scorn her embrace. He had pushed everyone away.

She had been so proud of Kíli. He was stubborn, to be sure – foolishly so – but his unwavering love and support for his brother was admirable. Even in the midst of his foolishness, running off to confront whatever deplorable creature had harmed Fíli, she had been proud. He was rash and reckless, but it came out of a love and loyalty that reminded her sharply of Frerin. Thorin, of course, had always been analytical and introspective, but Frerin had been much like Kíli was now. Fiercely loyal and proud, overflowing with love and a foolish optimism.

Perhaps that was what killed him in the end. Dís knew that she should not encourage such behavior, but she missed Frerin, and she would not relinquish what brought him to mind. Kíli was Kíli, and she would have nothing less. That was why the dying light in her youngest's eyes pierced her so deeply.

When Óin had finally let her in to speak to her baby boy, she had not expected the dull, hopeless look that clouded Kíli's gaze. Without his brother, Kíli was lost and alone and without purpose. It terrified her and it rent her heart. No longer did her cheerful, beautiful, reckless boy peer out from behind those eyes. All that remained was a shell whose soul had been ripped out and left in the water. Though he had not said it, Dís could see it in his eyes: _I would rather be dead._

So both Fíli and Kíli were gone. She had her boys in body, but not in spirit, and she longed for them. For each other's sake, but also for her brother's sake. They were the lights of his life, and without them, Dís feared for his mind. They had both lost so much – perhaps she even more, with her husband dead – but it weighed heavier on Thorin's shoulders. He felt a greater part of the weight of responsibility for all that had happened, and he held grief close to the heart and did not let go.

But most of all, perhaps selfishly, Dís needed her sons back for herself. No mother was meant to lose her children, in body or in spirit. She needed her boys for so many reasons. She needed the joy they brought to her life; she needed the love and affection they gave; she needed the living memories of those she had lost. She needed Fíli and Kíli simply because they were Fíli and Kíli, and they were irreplaceable.

She needed a solution, but she had none. All she knew to do was to be there for the family she had left, broken or not. She would bring food and kindness to Fíli, regardless of how he treated her. She would love and care for Kíli, though he no longer cared for himself. She would be a support for Thorin, though she was crumbling inside. She was a Dwarf, after all, and a woman besides. She would carry the weight with love and longsuffering – to whatever end.

* * *

**Fíli**

Darkness pressed in on every side, and Fíli was terrified.

There were no memories in Fíli's mind. Nothing that stretched beyond the past few days, anyhow. All he could remember was waking up, being restrained and confined, and then when he tried to escape, he was drugged and he woke up in jail. There he had been ever since, and things had only gotten worse since then. Someone - probably their leader, Thorin - had clearly arranged shifts so that someone was at the jail, staring at him and making sure that he didn't try to escape. It was infuriating. He hated their stares. They were not his company. They were his guards.

He was alone.

Anything beyond waking up screaming three days before was locked behind a thick, dark wall in Fíli's mind. He had no idea who he was or where he was from. He didn't know if he had any family or where they might be. Why was he here? How had he lost his memories? Where was he before? He had a suspicion that his jailers had something to do with it, and he didn't trust them in the slightest. Whatever they had done to him had worked, and that was what terrified him the most.

He had a vague memory of some horror happening in Kíli's presence - he could remember screaming and cowering in the corner of the jail cell, but not much more. If it were possible to trust him any less than he did the others, he would. Thorin may have been the leader, but it was clearly Kíli who had started it all. The young dwarf had some kind of power that Fíli could not comprehend, and though he refused to show it, he was afraid of him. At the same time, however, he felt such a strong animosity towards the brunet that the mere sight of him was enough to make Fíli want to snuff the light out of his wide brown eyes. He tried to keep him away with insults and threats of violence - which seemed to work for a little while, at least - but Kíli was determined. Whatever he had started, he wanted to finish it.

That was the reason he had tried to kill the stupid young dwarf. He had seemed so cunning at first, but Fíli had quickly realized that Kíli thought his tricks had worked, and Fíli would 'remember' him as his brother. He doubted Kíli was even the dwarf's real name - just another trick to try to fool him. But he wasn't fooled. The idea had come to him suddenly. If he pretended the trick had worked, Kíli would probably let him out; it hadn't taken him long to figure out that he was a rash and reckless dwarf, and Kíli had played perfectly into his trap. Of course, he knew that Kíli would try to follow him, which was why he beat him before running away - but clearly he hadn't beaten him enough, and Fíli had had to resort to more drastic measures. He hadn't expected anyone to find them, though, and that one factor had foiled his entire plan. Kíli was still alive and he was back in jail under an even more severe watch than before.

So now he was trapped. These people who claimed to be his kin kept him locked up and under watch. They could try to lie to him and 'bring him around', but he refused to fall for their lies. Family didn't do this to family. They were cunning and crafty, these people, and he meant to keep them out of his head as much as he could. They pretended to be worried and sad, but he knew they weren't. They hated him, and they wanted him to suffer.

If Fíli could have his own way, he would be far from these people. He didn't know where he would go or what he would do, but he wanted as much distance between him and them - especially Kíli - as possible. He just wished he could remember where he had come from. Surely someone missed him. Somebody out there somewhere was wondering where he was and when he would return. He longed to find somewhere safe, with people he loved and trusted, but he had no idea where to start or if he would ever find them at all. For all he knew, he was far from home, but in the inky darkness of his mind, he could not recall where any other dwarves would be. He was stuck here, with darkness and angry glares and indescribable fear for company.

Fíli felt so alone.

* * *

_**I'll write a regular chapter soon! I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I started working on these when I was still in New York, if you can believe it! Now I'm all settled into my new apartment and classes start tomorrow. Oh, that's the other thing. I'm in school now, so updates may be sluggish. But most of you will be in school too, so DO YOUR HOMEWORK WHILE YOU WAIT FOR UPDATES! If you don't have homework then BE PATIENT. :P **_

_**Reviews make my heart sing!**_


	16. Breaking Point

_**A/N: I LIVE! I know, it's getting longer and longer between updates and they're disappointingly short but I PROMISE THE STORY IS GONNA GO CRAZY AFTER THIS YOU'LL LOVE IT. I just have to find time to write it. Special thanks to my lovely tumblr friend the-iridescent-blue-morpho for being my beta on this chapter - and as always to Mhyin for being a willing victim of my ideas as I puke them out trying to come up with content for the chapters. Go check her blog on tumblr! She's got chapters 1-5 drawn. And maybe 6? I can't remember. Probably just up to 5. Anyway. Go look!**_

* * *

For three days, Kíli slept.

At first, sleep had been easy. His body had been through quite a lot, after all, and it needed to recover; in fact, what had been difficult was waking up. The first day after his near-drowning had been frustrating – all he wanted to do was sleep, to forget, and yet every few hours either Thorin or Dís would wake him up and ask him questions. _What is your name? What is my name? How old are you?_ They didn't ask him again about what happened, thankfully. He wanted to stay as far away from that topic as possible, a fact of which they both seemed to be aware. At first he had forgotten a few mundane things, which frustrated him – he had had quite enough of memory loss by now. He had had quite enough of a lot of things. Eventually, though, his mind cleared, and the only evidence of his injury was the dark, ugly bruise that enveloped the entire right side of his face.

Óin also was in and out, checking on his head and making sure his breathing was all right. He wished the old dwarf would stop fussing over him – if he didn't care, then why should anyone else? He was forced to drink teas mixed with medicines for two days until his pain reduced to a more manageable level; then Óin seemed to be satisfied with the recovery process and left him alone. Once his kin were sure the concussion had subsided, they all left him alone for longer stretches of time, and he dropped into dreamless bliss for as long as he possibly could, glad to be alone.

When he wasn't asleep and no one was fussing over him, he didn't do much of anything at all. He didn't eat and he rarely drank. Sometimes he would sit in the living room and stare into nothing, trying to think about nothing; sometimes he would sneak outside and watch life go by, trying to figure out how it was possible to go along with it. He never went far, but still his family seemed to panic every time he left the house. Eventually Dís would come running out, searching wildly to the left and right before her gaze rested on her youngest. Then her blue eyes would soften, and she would coax him back inside and beg him not to scare her like that again. As if going outside were a life-threatening thing. He supposed he hadn't set the most trustworthy record.

He could see the worry in their eyes. He could hear the anxious whispers outside his door when he was supposed to be asleep; they thought they were quiet, but he could hear them.

"He still isn't eating."

"I know, Dís. I can see that."

"Well, what are we going to do?"

"We can't force him to eat."

Kíli listened with indifference. It wasn't that he was starving himself – he wasn't. He just didn't bother to eat. He wasn't hungry. His family just didn't seem to be able to grasp the concept that he didn't _care_ anymore. If he was hungry, he would eat. If he was tired, he would sleep. But continuing on with life the way it had been before was impossible. That life was gone, just like Fíli; the world was strange and foreign, and Kíli did not know how to navigate through it.

By the fifth day, Thorin and Dís had apparently had enough.

Late in the afternoon, Dís found Kíli outside, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed, staring out into nothing. He heard the door open and close to his left, but he continued staring straight ahead; not until Dís touched his arm did he turn to look at her.

"Kíli, come inside," said Dís gently.

Kíli didn't move. Dís tugged on his arm.

"Your uncle and I want to talk to you," she said. "Come inside. Now."

Kíli let out a sigh and let Dís pull him inside, where his uncle was standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the table and watching him with stern blue eyes. Dís settled beside him, and Kíli leaned back against the wall by the front door. Thorin offered his nephew a soft smile that Kíli did not return; instead, he looked away, avoiding everyone's gaze. He could feel their stares boring into him, but he said nothing, waiting for someone to speak.

Finally, Dís broke the silence.

"We're worried about you," she began. "You're not taking care of yourself, love. You've spoken barely a word since – well."

Kíli shifted uncomfortably.

"It's so unlike you," she continued. "I just want my boy back. What can I do to help you, Kíli?"

Kíli finally looked up, turning his gaze meaningfully onto Thorin. There was only one thing he wanted – only one thing he needed.

"Can you get Fíli back?" he said.

Thorin's mouth dropped open as he struggled to find words.

"Kíli…" he said hesitantly. "I promise you, I will do – I _am_ doing – everything I can to get Fíli back."

A spark of anger lit in Kíli's heart. That was a lie. Thorin wasn't _trying_. He hadn't _done_ anything. He swallowed and closed his eyes, pushing the feeling down as best he could. _I don't care anymore._

"Kíli?" said Dís nervously, but Kíli ignored her and addressed Thorin instead.

"Don't lie," he said, his voice already shaking. It felt so _odd_ – feeling something, anything, after the past five days. But he was _angry_. He was tired of lies. Fíli had lied to him, and he had almost died because he had believed him. Now Thorin was lying to him, too, as if that would make anything better. If he wasn't going to do anything, he should just say so – false hope was no hope at all, and he refused to be deceived.

"I told you, I promised," Thorin said, but Kíli clenched his teeth and shook his head. The spark in his heart was quickly growing to a flame, and he wasn't sure he could control it for much longer. He couldn't speak; if he spoke, everything would come tumbling out. Everything. His fingers began to tremble.

"Are you all right?" said Dís. Kíli pressed himself back into the wall and crossed his arms protectively over his chest, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. _I don't care anymore I don't care I don't care,_ he thought, but he could not stop the flames that licked up to his head now. He could hear them crackling and roaring, and his face grew warm as he fought against this violent emotion that tried to take him over.

"Please talk to us, Kíli," said Thorin. "We want to help you."

It was too much. Something snapped, and before Kíli even understood what he was doing, he had launched himself at Thorin, his fist flying towards his uncle's jaw. He made contact with a loud _thud_, and Dís let out a cry of shock and pulled him back before he could land another punch. Kíli struggled against her grip, but he could not get free; Thorin stared at him, wide-eyed, one hand over his jaw.

"_Help_ me?" he shouted hoarsely. "This is all your _fault_! If you had just _listened_ to me in the first place, this never would have happened! Fíli would be _fine_! All you had to do was _listen_ to me! You _never – ever – listen_!"

With a quick move that not even Dís could have anticipated, Kíli wrenched himself free and dove at Thorin again, burning with rage. This time, however, Thorin was prepared, and he caught his nephew's wrists before his fists could touch him again. Kíli pushed, but Thorin pushed back forcefully, and Kíli stumbled backwards. He tripped over his own feet and fell hard on his bottom, the force of his landing knocking all the wind out of him. Instantly Dís was at his side, but he rolled away from her onto his knees and touched his forehead to the floor, gasping painfully and covering his head with his hands. Moments passed in silence as nobody dared to move.

Suddenly his anger was overtaken by a violent wave of remorse and grief, vast and overwhelming and quenching his rage in an instant. His gasps turned into a silent cry, his mouth hanging open soundlessly; then a hoarse, animal sound emerged from his throat, long and wild and grieved. He took in a sharp breath and began to sob loudly, his body shaking and his fingers curling into his hair.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry – I'm so – so sorry – I d-didn't mean…" His voice dissolved into another keen as anguish rolled through him wave after wave. Everything that he had been forcing back into numbness was rushing at him at once – he had tried, he had tried _so_ hard, to keep this at bay, to tell himself that he didn't _care_, but he did. He always had.

"Oh, Kíli, come here," said Dís, taking him by the arms. She pulled him up so that he was kneeling and settled on the floor in front of him, hugging his shaking frame tightly. Kíli held himself rigid, ashamed of his behavior. He didn't deserve to be comforted after such a heinous, disrespectful act.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered again. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry—"

"Hush, now, my love," Dís whispered, and Kíli pressed his lips together and nodded, but he could not control himself. He felt so weary and defeated and helpless, and he was tired of holding it back. He had held everything in too long. So he let it out. He rested limply in his mother's arms and let the tears fall. He let his mouth hang open and he did not try to stop the awful sounds that left his lips. Fíli would call him _pathetic_ – and maybe he was. Pathetic without Fíli, anyway. He was only half there.

That was what hurt the most. He felt like a large part of him was missing without Fíli; he had never been without him. Not for very long, anyway – maybe a couple of days here or there, and even that had been strange to him. But this was something else entirely. And if he were honest with himself, it wasn't Thorin's fault at all. Kíli understood why he had had doubts. Thorin didn't have the connection with Fíli that Kíli had – that Kíli _used_ to have – so of course he wouldn't have felt the same sense of foreboding with Fíli's absence. Kíli knew whose fault it really was: his own. If he had not made Fíli angry, his brother would still be here, smiling and joking by his side. But Kíli had been a fool, and he had brought this upon himself. Now he truly felt like half of him was gone.

He cried like a child in his mother's arms for a long time. She simply held him close and kept silent, letting him cry as long as he needed to. Finally, after what felt like forever, his sobs quieted to hiccups and gasps, but still Dís did not let him go – and he didn't want her to. He was tired of being alone.

"U-uncle," he said suddenly. He lifted his chin to rest on Dís's shoulder, and Thorin crouched into view before him. His uncle's eyes were red, but there were no tears on his face.

"I-I'm sorry," he choked. "It's not – not your fault. You couldn't have known."

Thorin sighed and looked down briefly before meeting his nephew's eyes.

"No, you were right, Kíli. It _is_ my fault," Thorin said. "I should have listened to you. I am sorry I didn't believe you."

For a long moment, neither dwarf said anything. They simply looked at each other, seeking forgiveness in the other's eyes and finding it in abundance. Kíli closed his eyes again and buried his nose into Dís's neck with a shuddering sigh. He felt completely drained and he didn't feel any better about anything. He was painfully aware that nothing had changed just because he had snapped; the thought almost sent him back into tears, but Dís pulled back and took his face in her hands. She kissed his hair and then touched her forehead to his.

"Stop," she said simply.

Kíli nodded and took a deep breath to steady himself, wincing at the twinge in his side. His mother stood and held out her hands; he took them, and she helped him to his feet. Thorin pressed a handkerchief into his hand, and he took it gratefully and wiped his face clean.

"Don't lock yourself away," Thorin said, and Kíli paused and looked at him. His eyes were soft and sad. "I've seen many a dwarf lose themselves to madness in their grief, and I don't want the same to happen to you. You're – you're irreplaceable, Kíli."

Kíli wanted to speak, but he didn't trust himself with words just yet. Instead he nodded as he mulled over Thorin's words. _Grief._ Grief meant something had been lost and that it would never come back.

Suddenly a familiar feeling reared up in Kíli's mind – a feeling he had almost forgotten about in the past several days. _Stubbornness._ No – he would _not_ accept that Fíli was gone forever. He had let himself sink too far in the aftermath of Fíli's attack, but he would not sink so low again. He straightened his back and his shoulders and swallowed. Thorin had made him a promise, and now Kíli would make the same promise to himself. He would _never_ give up, _never_, until he had gotten Fíli back or died trying. Not even if it took a hundred years. He would search, and he would fight, and he would go to Mordor itself and back if it meant that he could have his brother back again. Nothing and no one would stand in his way and succeed. He was going to _win_. He was going to save Fíli.

He owed his brother that much.

* * *

_**Graaar why is this chapter so SHORT!? *angry growling* I'M SORRY I TRIED FOR HOURS TO MAKE IT LONGER BUT IT IS COMPLETE. I'll try to write more soon but PHYSICS. AUGH.  
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_**In the meantime, please review! I thrive on your reviews. Much love!**_


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